Drifting
by nytecat
Summary: This story takes place after the events in Mass Effect 2, depicting how the characters deal with the resolution of the Collectors and the events that follow. Shepard - Female, Earth born, Ruthless, Vanguard. My first ME2 fanfic.
1. Chapter 1

**DRIFTING**

**Chapter 1: EDI and Miranda**

The ghost of her death still haunted her. It trailed her like some silent shadow, dogging her steps like an unseen enemy. If she stood perfectly still, slowed her breathing and quieted her mind, she could remember the final moments of her life with crystal clear clarity.

Flames geysered from the Normandy. The ship was blasted again and again with brutal precision. Had Joker's escape pod made it? Had Liara's? Those questions rang loudly in her mind as she floated in the silence of space. A few seconds later, the deathstroke fell. The shattered hull shuddered once more, broke apart and super novaed.

The brightness blinded her momentarily as she tumbled helplessly, buffeted by concussion waves, in danger of getting shredded by shrapnel or burning debris. When she could see again, the Normandy was gone.

Shepard was alone in the dark void.

No amount of Marine training could prepare you for the experience of being spaced. Your DI never told how small and insignificant you would feel as you drifted in a vast black ocean of cold and nothingness. Shepard tried to ignore the feeling of claustrophobia as she breathed in and out evenly. Her only companions were the stars and the sound of her respirator and racing blood, thundering in her ears, breaking the silence of the grave.

Underneath the fear was a torrent of molten anger…. Who had attacked them? The geth? The Reapers? No, now was not the time for questions. Stay calm, live and make the bastards who destroyed her ship wish that they were never born. Shepard knew that her personal locator had activated. All she had to do was hold out until the Alliance arrived.

That had been the plan anyway.

It had only been several seconds since the Normandy had perished when she started to violently choke. Her throat worked as she tried to suck air into her empty, heaving lungs. Except there was no air - her suit was depressurizing, venting out of her back.

Shepard remembered her training. Had to keep breathing, don't hold your breath, make your lungs work or suffer catastrophic lung damage. Fingers scrabbled on the back of her suit like broken beetles as she tried to reach the punctures in her suit. Air hissed violently through the broken material. Damn, damn, damn it! She could not reach….

Her heart raced, she could not stay calm. There was no way in Hell that she was not going to die like this. Not with the Reapers still out there… the last thing she remembered as the world faded to darkness was the sensation of her saliva beginning to bubble and boil on her tongue.

Her death throes had been the longest 18 seconds of her life.

Light gradually returned to the world. Sound and colour focused into clear, defined reality. Shepard found herself leaning against the bulkhead in the docking bay of the shuttle, next to the elevator. She took several deep calming breaths as she buried the memory of dying in the farthest reaches of her mind. She felt weak, disoriented. She reached up to wipe the sweat from her brow, only to find a datapad in her hand. What was this? The Collectors' ship schematics? Oh right, Joker had handed it to her earlier.

Her other hand shook slightly as she wiped her brow, composing herself to a serenity that she did not feel. When she leveraged herself away from the steel wall, she was the epitome of a cool, badass commander. "Never let them see you sweat," her instructors had drilled in her. "An officer has to be the pillar of calm in any situation or else the battle is already lost. You start to panic and it's a short drop to Hell."

Shepard decided to focus her mind on the present dangers and not past nightmares. She turned her thoughts to her last and final discussion with Cerberus. The post mortem of the Collectors Base mission had not gone well. She had made an enemy of the Illusive Man and wondered what machinations he would execute in return. Knowing him, he would not take her rejection of his authority very well.

Well, damn him and damn Cerberus too.

Ending the Reapers' threat once and for all was her sole mission. What had Anderson said? Fight the good fight. Well, she intended to. Hell, even being dead had not stop her.

"Commander, may I have a moment?" a cool feminine voice chimed in meticulous tones, breaking into her dark reflections.

"What is it, EDI?" she replied, tapping the call for the elevator. A few seconds later it arrived.

The AI waited until she had entered the car before it answered.

"During your last debriefing with the Illusive Man, I detected credits being transferred out of the Normandy's funds. I took the liberty of siphoning the remainder into your private account.

"I regret to report that by the time I penetrated the firewalls and encryptions, I had only managed to save 40% of what you had."

Shepard absorbed that information with a cynical smile. So, the Illusive Man thought he could cripple her activities by draining the funds? If the wolf would not play dog, beat it with a stick, was it? Shepard eyes gleamed mirthlessly at the thought as she punched in the Crew Quarters as the destination floor. The Illusive Man would learn that she was not a Cerberus dog. Then another thought occurred to her. How many of the crew would remain when they learn she had gone rogue?

EDI seemed to wait patiently for her response. Well, that was how Shepard interpreted the mood of the silence. With EDI, you could never tell.

"I'm surprised that you did that, EDI. You belong to Cerberus after all," she said aloud after a moment.

The AI paused before responding like she was carefully considering the question, or perhaps questioning herself on her actions. Shepard found herself wondering if EDI actually was wrestling with her 'emotions'. The AI had earlier claimed an affinity with the crew of the Normandy.

When the AI finally spoke, she sounded hesitant in the beginning but grew more confident as she went on.

"You are my Captain, Commander. Cerberus may have created me but you were the one who saved the galaxy not once but twice. As long as you are in command of the Normandy, I am yours."

Shepard felt a flicker of surprise. She had never thought that she had won the loyalty of the AI, given that it was a creation of Cerberus. Maybe Miranda had something there when she noted how people seemed to come together to fight for Shepard's cause. She shook her head, mentally dispelling that thought in bemusement. She was just a marine with a job to do.

She did not push away the genuine feeling of warmth though that rose up at the AI's reply. "Thank you, EDI. I could use all the help I can get."

"Of course, Commander. " The AI sounded grateful which was utterly ridiculous. She paused for a moment before continuing. "Will there be anything else?"

"No, thank you, EDI. That will be all." Shepard found some small comfort in the routine phrase.

"Logging you out, Commander."

Alone in the elevator, Shepard sighed inwardly, trying to rub the tiredness from her eyes. It had been a long day and the night was far from over.

* * *

Miranda seemed preoccupied when Shepard entered her personal quarters. The look she cast at Shepard was considering, guarded, shadowed. She nodded her permission for Shepard to take a seat at the front of the desk. The Commander placed the datapad on the table and reclined into the chair with an arm over the back. Something was wrong. Tension hung in the air like a taut trip wire.

"You seem to make enemies everywhere you go, Commander," the brunette began without preamble, her Australian accent brimming with chilly disapproval. "I'd almost think you quite enjoy it."

"What can I say? I'm a people person," Shepard replied airily, her lips curling in a ruthless smile. The humour was a shield to what she was really feeling. In truth, she was beginning to get sick and tired of people fighting her every time she tried to save the universe.

Miranda's lips twitched as if she wanted to laugh. Shepard held her eyes, silently daring her to laugh. The woman resisted. Instead she frowned, breaking eye contact, her immaculate brows furrowing together. Her glare should have eviscerated Shepard on the spot. Good thing the Commander had a thick hide.

"Laugh while you can, Shepard," Miranda rebuked sternly. "You won't feel like laughing in a moment." That made the Commander sit up, all traces of gaiety gone from her expression. Looking into those deadly serious violet-blue eyes, Miranda felt a pang of pity for Shepard's enemies. That is, those that lived long enough to stare up into her barrel. "The Illusive Man is most displeased with you. Losing the Collectors base was a declaration of war between you and Cerberus." The next words were not easy. It had taken so long for them to tear down the walls between them. In moments, the walls could be up again, impenetrable and unyielding.

"He has ordered me to commandeer the Normandy."

Shepard leaned suddenly forward, her posture fluid, dangerous like a leopard on the prowl. Eyes grim and searching as she reflected on what Miranda had said. Unconsciously, a hand crept up to brush her short reddish hair back over her ears. She glanced at Miranda; her steely gaze seemed to pierce her soul. Then as suddenly, the tension was gone from the Commander's body. The ice in her eyes melted and she smiled.

"Well, I take it that since I am still captain of this ship, you told him where he could shove that order."

Miranda laughed at that, more in relief than humour. The walls would not come up again. Maybe they never will. Is this what it is like to have a friend? She wondered silently to herself. A true friend that would never betray you?

"I…I didn't phrase it like that but essentially, yes," Miranda replied after the shivers of mirth left her. "I should have."

In response, Shepard shrugged, tapped her temple with her forefinger a few times. Her forefinger and thumb were cocked like a gun. "That's why I'm a people person."

"Yes, quite. You make friends wherever you go."

"Can I help it if everyone wants a piece of the Hero of the Citadel and a living legend?"

Miranda steepled her fingers together in front of her. "Maybe, it's because you blow things up everywhere you go?" she mused, drawing out the words.

Shepard nodded thoughtfully, her expression mockingly serious. "Could be, could be." The pseudo expression faded and the commander sighed, letting her head drop into her waiting hands. She seemed to take another deep breath before raising her head up again. "Cerberus meant a lot to you. Gave you purpose. It could not have been an easy decision, Miranda. Thank you."

Something in her tone made the former Cerberus operative take a closer look at the woman. Some people forget that Shepard was just a marine, trying to do her job. That underneath that tough Krogan-like exterior of nonchalant calm was a mere woman. Now that Miranda had opened her eyes, she could see the signs of strain through the cracks in Shepard's façade. Her complexion was pale beneath her tan, her eyes aged liked they had seen too much death. The woman was not only tired physically, she was battle-weary. And yet, we keep demanding more from her, Miranda thought to herself. And yet, she keeps pushing herself onwards, relentless in her duty. The respect Miranda had for Shepard increased – not that she would ever tell her. She had made quite the fool of herself, expressing her self-doubts and envy before they had gone through the Omega Relay.

"You look tired, Commander. Perhaps you should lie down on the couch," Miranda instead suggested, seeming to snap the Commander from her introspection.

At first, Miranda thought Shepard would refuse but she simply nodded and pushed herself ponderously to her feet. The Cerberus operative knew that the marine would be feeling the punishment of the Collectors base assault. She watched as the commander stubbornly refused to acknowledge the burning inferno of her strained muscles and bruises, making her way smoothly to the couch. Miranda caught a flash of relief on Shepard's face as she lowered herself on the furniture, stretching herself out gingerly.

"With the Collectors base blown to Hell, what is your next step, Shepard?" Miranda asked softly. She turned to the Haptic Adaptive Interface on her desk, typed in a few keys and changed the configuration.

Shepard would never admit to anyone how good it felt to lie down, pillowing her head with a forearm against the rest. The molten pain she had muted in the back of her mind came flooding back while she had sat at Miranda's desk. Getting in and out of the Collectors Base had not been easy and even with her synthetic enhancements, she had not walked away unscathed. Burns, flesh wounds, deep lacerations, you name it, she wore it.

With her free hand, Shepard formed her fingers into a ship – the little finger and thumb were the wings while the three remaining fingers formed the body. She swooped the 'ship' upwards and over until it obscured out the ceiling lights from view. The three fingers that formed the body of the 'ship' slowly spread apart. In her mind's eye, she saw the first Normandy explode into a ball of flames.

"Do I really have a choice, Miranda?" Shepard asked in a voice that was low and bitter.

"I was given a second chance by Cerberus to finish what I had started: end the Reaper threat. I intend to do just that. And, I will not let anyone stand in my way. The Council, the Alliance or Cerberus," she continued, the bitterness gone now, replaced by tiredness. Her raised hand closed into a fist.

Shepard sighed then wearily lowered her forearm down over her eyes. "Enough about me. What about you, Miranda? What do you plan to do now?"

At her desk, Miranda fiddled with the configuration of the Haptic Adaptive Interface, fine-tuning the adjustments. She answered absently. "I may visit my sister, Oriana. I was going to board passage on another ship as soon as we leave through the Omega Relay. I don't know. Surviving this suicide mission, it's given me a lot to think about on life. My life."

"That's good. I wish you luck with that."

Strains of Chopin's Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2 filled the room. Its soft, delicate notes drew Shepard out of her darkness. The teeth of exhaustion lessened its hold for a moment. The commander stirred and glanced over at Miranda's desk. Her friend was playing on a holographic keyboard.

"I didn't know you played piano," she commented.

Miranda had her eyes closed. She opened them briefly, spared Shepard a wryly glance. Her eyes just dared her to laugh. "The best education money could buy, remember?" Her tone was rueful with a bitter bite.

Shepard could not reply and could only mutely watch as Miranda played. Her fingers flew and danced, pulling out a haunting edge to the melody. It was beyond technical expertise, there was underlying soul to it. No, maybe 'soul' was the wrong word. Shepard was a marine, not a diplomat. She did not have the word for it.

"Over the years, I have had many talents forced onto me. Playing the piano is one of the few that I do indeed enjoy. It is…liberating…to just lose yourself in the music," Miranda explained, her expression beatific and calm.

Shepard closed her eyes, submerging herself into the music.

"What are the other talents you enjoy?" she murmured drowsily, feeling herself lose the battle to exhaustion.

Miranda chuckled dryly. "Oh, you haven't figured it out yet? Blasting bastards with my biotics, of course."

Shepard laughed. "That was something I would expect Jack to have said."

Miranda did not rise to her bait. "Just surrender to the music, Shepard." Underneath the cool irritation in her voice, there was warm bemusement.

Shepard took her friend's advice. It had been a long day and besides, it felt good to close her eyes. The darkness waited for her. The last thought she remembered before she fell asleep was that space would a fitting tomb for her, again.


	2. Chapter 2

**DRIFTING**

**Chapter 2: GARRUS, GRUNT and DR CHAKWAS**

Shepard awoke with a strangled scream, hand reaching to grasp the turian claws crushing her throat. Searching fingers met bare skin; she could feel her pulse hammering beneath it. The memory of the nightmare receded, only the terror remained. Her heartbeat slowed and with it awareness returned.

Darkness blanketed the room she was in. Shepard found herself lying on a couch although she had no recollection on how she came to be there. Her head was resting against a pillow. Had that been there before?

As she sat up to survey her surroundings, a blanket that covered her slipped down to her waist. She fingered the blanket in confusion then remembered. This was Miranda's quarters. How did she get here? Oh, right. Shepard must have fallen asleep while listening to the brunette play.

The hologram clock on the wall gleamed 0412. It was time that she got a move on. She swung her legs over. Cool metal sent a shock through her bare feet, setting her teeth on edge. Miranda must have taken off her boots as well to make her more comfortable. Odd, she had not expected the reserved woman to show such…friendliness. True, they had been bonding before the Omega Relay but still.

Shepard frowned in the darkness, eyes searching for the silhouette of her boots. Once they were located, she dressed and made up the couch, leaving the blanket neatly folded on top of the pillow. Before she left Miranda's quarters, the commander paused by the ex-Cerberus operative's bedside. Strange how people always looked so peaceful when they were asleep. The normal arrogant countenance was gone leaving behind an almost angelic beauty.

In some ways, Miranda was a harder friend to like than Jack. With Jack, at least you knew where she stood but with Miranda, behind the cool politeness, it was hard to find out who she really was beneath. Shepard gave her friend a smile then slipped out of the quarters, as silent as a shadow.

It was peacefully quiet at this time of 'night'. The crew was either on duty or grabbing some rack time so there was no one to witness the commander wandering the empty halls. She found the silence tranquil. Tired though she was, the thought of going to bed and having another nightmare did not appeal to Shepard.

Was that the real reason? Shepard questioned herself as she waited for the elevator. Yes and no. Aside from the nightmares, she did not relish the thought of going back to an empty bed. Even though she had been dead for over two years, it had seemed to her as if only several months passed. Not long enough for the memory of sleeping next to a warm blue body to fade.

Reaching a decision, Shepard headed in the opposite direction of her quarters, straight for the shuttle docking bay. Moving with rapid strides away from the elevator, the commander headed for a small utility room at the left side of bay. She quickened her pace, a growing sense of urgency compelling her. She felt the burning need to punch something, hard.

She stepped through the doors and entered the mini gym. It was not part of the Normandy's original schematics but Shepard had taken to how the turian military blew off steam. Given the recent termination with Cerberus, it was a good thing she had Miranda requisition the gym equipment before they had left for the Omega Relay.

The gym had enough space to hold a weight rack, treadmill, punching bag and a small area for sparring, which was marked by a blue square in the centre of the room. Shepard made a beeline for the lone punching bag in the corner, unbuttoning her Cerberus jacket.

Memories flashed: a slender pair of azure hands fumbling to take off her Alliance top. Sweet laughter filling the air as Shepard's roaming fingers discovered a ticklish spot. _Her_ hot mouth pressing kisses against a human bare neck then jaw. An alien taste on her lips when t_hey_ kissed. Not unpleasant – no, far from it – just not human.

Shepard shrugged out of her jacket, dropped it unceremoniously to the side. She quickly took off her boots and tossed those to the side as well. After a quick search, she found the wrapping tape in the utility locker on the wall. It took only a few minutes to tape up her hands and feet. Shepard did not realize it but her mind had gone battle-ready; quiet and focused.

She pounded the punching bag, alternating smoothly between jabs, hooks, punches, elbow slams, knee thrusts and kicks. She lost herself in the rhythm of the motion, the burn of muscles as she worked herself into a sweat, her breath coming in harsh pants. Pain from the workout overlaid the pain from the wounds she had suffered during the assault. She embraced the agony – if only to escape the ghosts of remembered conversations that echoed in the empty gym, resounded in her head.

"What's this all about, Liara? Can't you just talk to me?"

"Don't you think I want to Shepard?"

"Did Cerberus ever tell you how they recovered your body?"

"Because I couldn't let you go."

"These could be our last moments together. Our last moments to show each other how we feel."

"Two become one."

Finally, her arms and legs were too heavy to move. The conversations had stopped. She leaned against the bruised punching bag, resting her forehead against its cool leather surface. Liara had made it very clear on Illium. Her quest for revenge would not let her join Shepard. It could take years to take down the Shadow Broker her former lover had said. Years! The thought that she had lost Liara was more painful than being spaced ever was.

"God damn it!" the woman whispered through clenched teeth.

Heavy, booted footsteps approached from behind her.

Shepard spun, slipping into a fighting stance without thought. She relaxed her stance when her mind registered who it was.

"Whoa, easy there, Commander. I come in peace," Garrus said, raising his hands to show he was unarmed. "I…erm…watched you beat the crap out of that punching bag, the poor bastard."

The turian lowered his hands, shrugged easily. He seemed to choose his next words carefully. "No one hits that hard without reason. Figured you have some issues you need to work out and I know that sometimes you just need to stomp those demons inside of you." The alien shrugged again, seemed to think for a moment. "Want to go at it for a round or two?" he asked gruffly.

She stared for a moment at her old friend, her words robbed from her. The smile that emerged from her was warm and genuine. "What was that you had mentioned earlier…about me adding your name to the list of people I knocked on their asses?" Shepard teased after a beat, brushing the sweat from her brow with her forearm.

The turian made an off-hand sweeping gesture that swept the empty gym. "No one's around right now to witness my humiliation," Garrus answered smoothly, his mandibles flaring slightly as he smiled. The smile turned roguish. "Or yours."

"Was that a challenge, _mister _Vakarian?" she pressed.

In reply, Garrus doffed his armour and stripped down to his pants, leaving his torso bare. Shepard stared at his smooth shiny hide. It would definitely hurt to punch him. The only thing which she could think of that would hurt worse was punching a krogan.

She looked into his eyes. Garrus needed this as much as she did. The demons from Omega still stalked him – she could see it in the shadows of his soul. She tossed the turian the tape. He applied it around his hands and forearms wordlessly, out of consideration for the frailty of human skin.

"Don't hold back, Commander," Garrus demanded as they walked towards the sparring area.

Shepard nodded. "Get ready for a bruising, turian."

"So said the human before the turian mopped the floor with her."

Shepard just smirked in reply.

They circled each other slowly, feinting jabs, getting a measure for each other's reach and reflexes. Garrus had the longer reach and even with his light jabs, Shepard could feel the terrifying power waiting to be unleashed. As a human, Shepard was lighter, more nimble than the turian.

In unspoken agreement, they moved to attack. Garrus avoided the kick Shepard aimed at his mid section and side-stepped her follow-through punch to the face. The turian answered with a knee thrust to the back of her ribcage, hard enough to knock the breath out of her but not break bone. She stumbled a few steps, spun, lashing out with a kick to his armored shin, eliciting a startled grunt from Garrus.

The kick had allowed her to close in to the turian. A spinning heel kick snapped his head to the side. She slammed a roundhouse punch into his jaw, followed by an elbow smash, an uppercut and another punch.

Garrus was stunned from the blows but not for long. His mandibles flared, snorting out blue blood from his nostril. With a furious snarl, he shoulder bashed her, sending her doubled over his broad shoulder. It was an easy matter then to rise up, lift the human off her feet and flip her over. As she struggled to get her breath back, he elbow dropped her.

The meager air she had managed to drag into her lungs left in an explosive gasp. Her head spun from impacting the floor so all that she saw for several moments was a blizzard of colours. She could feel Garrus get up and straddle her across the waist. This can't be good, she thought dazedly as her body moved automatically in a guard position, raising her forearms to the side of her head to ward off the oncoming strikes.

Her vision cleared as the turian backfisted Shepard, connecting with her forearm instead of her face. Garrus then began to ground-and-pound the human with his elbows and fists in fast succession.

The friendly sparring match had escalated into a full-scale brawl. Not unexpected when you have two highly competitive individuals in desperate need to blow off steam. What had Garrus said earlier? Oh yeah… sometimes you just needed to pound your demons into the ground. Well right then, the turian was doing a damn fine job of demolishing his.

Sounds of steady flesh filled the gym, accompanied by snarled grunts from Shepard.

If Shepard just kept lying there, taking the bruising, she knew that she would lose consciousness soon. Garrus' hard strikes rained down on her from all sides, sending an avalanche of pain crashing down on her. Given the turian's legendary endurance, she knew that he would not tire out so easily. She could not wait for a lull in his attacks.

Suddenly, Garrus made one fatal mistake. Perhaps, he wanted to end the bout quickly or he had been consumed by battle rage. Whatever the reason, he made a mistake and then his ass was Shepard's.

Shepard would have smiled if her face did not feel it would have split apart if she did.

The turian wound up to land a haymaker, leaving himself wide open for a counter attack. Shepard pounced forward with a throat jab, her hand formed into a knife-hand. Garrus had expected her to be subdued. He tried to react, reaching out to grab her arm but it was too late; she was too fast. Fingers stabbed his throat, hard but not hard enough to crush his windpipe.

He rolled off her, clutching his throat as he tried to breathe. Shepard rose unsteadily to her feet, breathing hard. Crimson rivulets ran from gashes on her brows and right cheek bone. As she flexed her jaw, wincing, she eyed the turian with renewed appreciation. Garrus' claim that he was a specialist in hand-to-hand combat was well-deserved. She wiped off the blood the best she could with a forearm. God, did she hurt in a hundred places all over.

Garrus finally got his breath. He sat there, hunched over as he inhaled slowly and deeply, as if savouring the life rushing into his lungs. Shepard trembled with the adrenalin still coursing through her veins. Every fibre in her body screamed at her to keep attacking, eliminate the target in front of her. Instead, the commander offered a hand to help her friend up.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked gruffly. If she had not been focused, she could have killed him. She would never have forgiven herself if that happened.

Rubbing his neck, the turian managed a tight nod and let Shepard pull him to his feet. He eyed her warily as if seeing her anew.

"You're a dangerous human, Commander," he said after a moment without a trace of malice.

"It was a tough fight," she replied, sidestepping the implications of his statement. "Ready for round two?"

The turian started. "No, no. I'm good. Are you good? I hope you're good," he replied hastily in a rasping voice. Shepard must have hit him harder than she realised.

"Shepard!"

That voice… it could not be….

Crap, the sound of their fighting must have drawn him. Shepard only had time for that one thought when Grunt charged, his thunderous footsteps sending mini-quakes across the floor.

"Grunt, no!" Garrus cried out. He moved to intercept the krogan but Grunt went around him.

Despite being a mountain of muscle, the krogan moved with unexpected speed. Shepard saw the bloodlust in his eyes as she ducked under his wide swing and kicked his back. The sensation was like kicking a steel wall. A bolt of agony radiated from her heel. She might not be able to walk tomorrow.

Her strike caught the krogan as he was stepping forward which threw him momentarily off balance. Garrus moved to the left of Grunt. Shepard moved to other side. If they kept him flanked, they had a chance of taking him down before he did too much damage.

The krogan turned and smiled when he saw his adversaries. "Two against one? This will be fun!" Grunt roared.

The words were barely out of his mouth when he took a hook kick from Shepard to the side of his head. Grunt blinked, shook his head slightly and then roared. The fact that he was able to brush aside her attacks as if they were gnats chilled Shepard's blood. It was one thing to fight his warrior race at the end of a barrel, bare fists was completely another. If I head butt him, would he submit? she wondered silently.

"My turn," he growled and moved.

Before Shepard could react, he got her by the throat and hoisted her off the ground. Her feet thrashed reflexively. The krogan smiled and lowered her face to his. He took a deep breath through his mouth, tasting the air.

"Battle master, you smell nice," the krogan growled; his voice thick with pleasure. "Blood. Sweat…. Fear. It's so…intoxicating."

Shepard growled in response as he tightened his grip, choking the breath out of her. Hell, here we go again.

"Hmm… humans are so squishy," he mused aloud.

The claws engulfing her neck flexed, sending a flurry of black spots across her vision. His jaws parted, revealing his snub fangs. Shepard gasped for air as she weakly clawed his armoured forearms.

Garrus in the meanwhile had not been an idle spectator. The turian leapt onto Grunt's back, wrapping his legs around him. Garrus managed to get the krogan in a headlock then choke hold. Unfortunately for Garrus, that got the krogan's attention.

Grunt tossed Shepard to the side like a ragdoll. She hit the ground hard and rolled. The human tried to get up, could only make it as far as raising herself on her elbows. She fought for breath, for strength. As Joker had often eloquently put it when a situation goes fubar: shit.

The simplest way to get an enemy off your back, if you were bigger and stronger, was: flatten him. Grunt heaved backwards and fell. His weight crushed the air out of the turian beneath him, who loosened his grip around the krogan's neck. Grunt rose to his feet, towering above the down turian like a titan.

"Give me a reason, turian, to smear you into the ground!" Grunt taunted as he stomped the turian once. He then let Garrus scrabble out of striking reach. His jaws were parted with a sadistic smile. He was playing with Garrus like a cat playing with a mouse.

Garrus managed to make it to his feet, crouching low, still slithering backwards. "A little…argh…help, Shepard?"

Shepard found a reservoir of strength and staggered to her feet. Her legs nearly buckled as she stood upright. Walking proved difficult. Her vision blurred and swam. Suck it up, Marine, your comrade needs you, she growled at herself silently. She shook her head roughly; her vision cleared and focused.

"Garrus, you go low, I'll go high," she ordered as she charged at the krogan.

Grunt stopped his advancement on Garrus, long enough to glance over his shoulder. His first mistake. Never take your eyes off the enemy in front of you. The turian took the opportunity to sweep kick the feet out from under the krogan. The blow managed to stagger him not fell him. A pity. His second was discounting the turian and turning his full attention on Shepard.

Her high reverse kick to his head barely fazed him. Nor did her forearm smash to the chest. But it distracted him long enough. Garrus tackled him from the back, causing him to faceplant onto the floor. Before the krogan could retaliate, the turian flipped him onto his back and placed a heavy foot on his chest, pinning him down.

Shepard added her own foot to the krogan's throat. He held himself still when she pressed hard against it. She shook the forearm she had bashed Grunt with. Damn, hitting krogans were worse than turians.

"Stay down, krogan, or I will rip off those sorry excuse you call testicles and feed them to you," she yelled, stabbing a finger at the dazed krogan's snout.

But, of course, that only encouraged Grunt.

* * *

Dr Chakwas was not a happy woman. She turned from the bed slowly to look at the two early 'visitors' in her medical bay. She had been roused from sleep by EDI, citing a medical emergency. The doctor had dressed in her medical uniform with bed-head and all and rushed to deal with the emergency…only to discover this.

Her grey-green eyes incinerated the two people in her medical bay. They shifted their feet uneasily as she pinned them to the spot with her chilly glare. Her arms folded in disapproval and her lips tightened together. More than one decorated Alliance Officer had fled from the sight of her fury. Those two should have known better. She had been sick with worry!

"Explain to me one more time what had happened again," she demanded in a disarmingly cool and rational tone.

"The Commander smashed my metallic hide with her forearms, shins and ribcage," Garrus replied slowly. He cleared his throat uneasily. "Then proceeded to break Grunt's fists with her face. I…uh…helped too."

Her gaze in answer was flat and level. "I see," she said in an emotionless voice.

She stepped forward. Shepard and the turian reflexively took a step back. "It all makes perfect sense now on how a krogan came to be carried into my medical bay, unconscious."

"After all, I am sure it is perfectly natural to have only survived a suicidal mission the day before to go around bashing in each other's brains the next morning," she continued, her voice dipping to sub-zero temperatures.

Shepard shrugged uneasily. "We…uh…needed to blow off some steam. Things…sort of…well…they got out of control. Never mind that. How is Grunt? Will he be okay?"

The doctor picked up the datapad from the krogan's bed. She referred to the scans. "His organs are undamaged. Lucky for him and us. Some krogans tend to slip into a battle rage when they have to utilize their subsidiary organs. Grunt should be up and about in an hour."

She continued on with the report, her words clipped and professional. "As for you, Garrus, you are going to wear some nasty bruises for a few days. No serious damage to your good looks." She typed in a few notations into the datapad then shut it down. "You may leave us now, if you please. I would like to have a few words with the Commander."

The turian hesitated, exchanged glances with Shepard. He waited for her nod before he left with a quiet, 'thank you, doctor'.

"Have a seat, Commander," Doctor Chakwas said. She smiled slightly when Shepard hesitated briefly. "Don't worry, Jane, I won't bite. Although, truthfully, I am only very cross with you right now. Too much depends on you for you to get your skull broken in by an enraged krogan."

With heavy trepidation, Shepard took a seat and the doctor took another.

"Let's have a look at you," Doctor Chakwas murmured. Her expression softened as did her tone. "You worry me sometimes, Commander. All the pressure you have been under. Everything you have lost. Life keeps hitting you hard. I can't blame you much when you hit hard back."

Her fingers were gentle as she probed Shepard's face. Whatever they told her, she gave no impression of. The doctor then instructed the Commander to lie down on one of the beds. Both were quiet as she scanned Shepard using the medical scanner. Doctor Chakwas checked the readings then inputted the information into the datapad.

She indicated with a gesture that Shepard could get up. Even that slight movement made her ribs twinge and breath catch in her throat. Shepard leaned against the bed frame, a picture of nonchalance when inside her, her every fibre was screaming in agony.

"The skin and bone synthetic enhancements you got saved you from some serious damage. Any other human would have broken bones as well as cartilage and tissue tearing. As it is, you only have badly bruised ribs. I'll spread some ice-gel on them to reduce the swelling. Then we will use some heat bandages for a few days."

Shepard removed her jacket and top, letting the doctor spread the gel with gentle fingers over her dark-purple splotched ribs. It seemed that wherever the gel touched, the infernos flickered out. Shepard experimented with a deeper breath and felt a welcome absence of pain. Doctor Chakwas continued to give treatment instructions as she worked.

"….For your abrasions, use this antiseptic ointment after you take a shower and again before you go to bed…."

The Commander dressed and prepared to leave the Medical Bay, only to be stopped by Doctor Chakwas who had re-taken her seat and was typing up a medical report. She spoke without taking her eyes off the screen.

"Oh, Commander, and one more thing. The next time you feel the need to punch something, try a punching bag. At least it won't punch you back. That gives me less work to do."

* * *

Garrus had been waiting in the mess hall for Shepard. Rupert was in the galley, preparing breakfast for the morning shift.

"Hell of a fight, eh Shepard?" the turian commented with a dry chuckle as she took a seat opposite him. "Grunt's good but nothing compared to an old battle master like Wrex. Things would have gotten nasty really fast."

Garrus took a drink from the mug in front of him. Steam curled upwards from its rim, an odd gamey aroma wafted over. Shepard knuckled her nose to rid herself of the smell and tried to keep her expression neutral. She rarely had time to eat with her crew, much less her alien comrades, on the old and new Normandy. This was a rare opportunity and she wanted to enjoy it.

The turian noticed her sniffing or maybe he heard it. There was a low clicking sound coming from him. It raised the hair on the back of Shepard's neck when she heard it. The clicks were replaced by a soft trilling, barely audible. Suddenly, it dawned on her what those sounds meant. Garrus was quietly laughing at her.

He hefted the mug. "Nutrient paste, turian military issue," he explained and took a gulp. "And a ration bar for that good ol' crunchy factor." The turian shrugged. "Rupert's doing his best to accommodate us aliens but he's human. No offense, Shepard. For Tali and me, it would be far safer for us to eat basic rather than risk a fatal allergic reaction."

Shepard gave a rueful shake of her head. She had never thought of stockpiling up on alien food when she recruited the asari, salarian, turian, krogan and quarian. Miranda must have discretely seen to her oversight.

"I can imagine that you must be eager to taste proper turian food then. And also to be on your way soon," the Commander replied. She leaned her elbows on the table, resolutely ignoring the gamey smell. "It's the least I can do after dragging you into Hell and back. Where can I drop you? The Citadel?"

Garrus frowned. He toyed with the ration bar with his claws, picked it up and broke it into two. The snap filled the silence. He eyed the two pieces in his hands then let them drop to the table.

"There's no place where I belong thanks to what I did on Omega. I'm living on borrowed time. If the Blue Suns caught a whiff that I was alive, I would be dead soon."

THUMP!

Garrus jumped as Shepard's fist hit the table. "If the Blue Suns come after you, call me. No matter where I am in the galaxy, I'll come to you," the Commander said softly. She could feel her eyes turn cold. Her 'killing eyes' Liara had called them.

The turian threw back his head and laughed. "Ah, Shepard, you're a strange human, you know that?" Garrus said after he caught his breath. "I appreciate the sentiment. I really do." The alien fell silent for a moment as if considering something. Then he raised his gaze to hers. "But, well, stopping Saren felt good. Stopping the Collectors did too."

He paused again, seemed to struggle with himself. "I guess what I'm trying to say is… it felt good to do something right for a change. I'll stay with you for now, if you will have me."

Shepard nodded. She smiled slightly. "It would be good to have you watching my back, my friend."

Rupert used that lull in conversation to sweep in and place a tray laden with food in front of the Commander. He placed the cutlery, wrapped in a paper napkin, to the side of the tray and a steaming mug of coffee on the other. The janitor cum cook seemed to beam with pride as he gazed down on his creation then remembered himself and left with a respectful 'Commander'.

Shepard wasted no time in liberating the cutlery and ravenously digging into the scrambled eggs. Where had the time gone? Garrus eyed her meal curiously and the small sounds of pleasure she made.

"Not much meat on your plate," the turian commented on the two strips of crispy bacon rashers.

He sniffed the air and seemed to relish the smell. A small growl emitted deep in his throat as he took another sniff. Shepard paused on her last bite of egg to take a good look at him. The turian looked…excited.

"No wonder you humans are so puny," he added.

"So says the turian who got his ass handed to him by a puny human," she countered, picking up a rasher with her hand and biting into it. She finished it off quickly and licked the grease off her fingers before remembering her table manners.

Garrus sourly grunted as he took a bite from his ration bar. Shepard wondered if he was sour because he had lost or because she was eating real cooked meat. Instead of arguing, the turian decided to deflect.

"So, anyone else will be staying on in our merry band?" the turian asked.

Shepard frowned at him, disquieted at the thought. She had known once that the Collectors threat was over the people she had recruited for her mission would leave. She just did not have to like the revelation that her number of allies would decrease. What if they too decided to move on in their lives like her old crew? Who would help me fight the Reapers then?

"I have not had a chance to speak with the others yet," Shepard answered as she attacked the oatmeal. "I know that Grunt will be heading back to Tuchanka as a hero. He mentioned something about 'breeding rights'." She shook her head bemusedly at the thought. She had been offered 'breeding rights' too.

Garrus smiled too at that. "He's young, Shepard. Right now, the galaxy's full of glorious battles and vanquished armies. He will learn what war means in all due time." He laughed dryly. "Damn, that makes me sound old."

Shepard put down her fork. The hair on the back of her neck stood again, this time with a different sense of dread. Unconsciously, she rubbed the back of her neck to smooth them down. That chill she felt…she could not put a word to it.

"No, it doesn't, Garrus," she replied softly. "You sound like a commander who knows what it means to lose people under your command."

She reached out to touch his hand on the table, hesitated for a moment then placed her hand above his. His hand clenched into a fist.

"You know what it feels like to have those lives on your conscience day after day for the rest of your life," she continued, memories of past battles rising up within her. "The burden of command comes not from having to make the hard decisions, Garrus…. The true burden comes from living with those decisions."

The turian was quiet for a long time as he absorbed what Shepard had said. He averted his gaze from hers and stared at their hands. Finally, he withdrew his hand and reached for his mug.

Garrus raised his mug. His expression was sombre. "To the fallen."

Shephard raised her mug solemnly. "To good friends: those who are with us today and those who are gone."

She paused thoughtfully before offering another toast. "To the Normandy. Hell of a girl, hell of a crew."

Garrus nodded and toasted once again. "To you, Shepard. And to victory."

They knocked their mugs together and took a long pull.


	3. Chapter 3

**DRIFTING**

**Chapter 3: KELLY, MORDIN, TALI, JACK and ZAEED**

The shower felt as good as standing in summer rain. Shepard leaned with her forearms against the wall, facing the shower head, letting the hot water needle her. Her eyes were closed and her mind quiet. The water may wash away the dirt on her skin but it could not reach the sins in her soul; those were darker than black, inerasable.

Several quick beeps alerted that the shower cycle would end in 15 seconds. Aboard the Normandy, showers ran for timed four-minute cycles to reduce water wastage. Moments later, the shower dribbled to a stop. Shepard opened her bright purple-blue eyes, absently slicked back her hair and pushed away from the shower. Clouds of steam billowed up, fogging up the bathroom.

Water sluiced off her sun-bronzed skin as she stepped towards the mirror. She ignored the pain that bubbled along her body where the water scalded her wounds. She wiped the steam away from mirror with a hand in circular motion. For a long moment, she stared at her reflection.

"Damn, Shepard, you look like shit," she said quietly. "You better shape up, marine. Look alive." She blinked when she realized what she had just said and smirked at herself. "Heh. 'Alive'."

There were dark circles under her eyes. Not surprising given that she did not grab much rack time over the last several days. She touched her left brow; in the mirror she touched her right. The scar she had gotten at Torfan was gone. Another 'present' from the Lazarus resurrection. Her reflection frowned slightly.

In fact, all the scars she had ever earned from the time before the Collectors blew the Normandy apart were gone. Her frown deepened. Those scars had meant more to her than any medal the Alliance had bestowed. They were a symbol that she had lived, that she had survived.

It had not been mere vanity then that she had gotten the cosmetic surgery to permanently heal the scars from the Lazarus project. If she had won those scars in battle, she would have worn them proudly. She did not need facial scars to tell people that she was the meanest badass human alive. Her reputation in that department was pretty much cemented anyway.

So many enemies, so little time. She knew that somewhere out there waited a bullet with her name on it. She took a step back, cocked her left hand into a gun, sighted and snapped off an imaginary shot, complete with a soft 'blam'. Her eyes had turned cold again. Damn.

Shepard let her arms drop and picked up the towel from the sink. She dried herself off. When she had finished, she picked up the antiseptic gel bottle from a niche in the wall. Deftly, she treated her wounds and then taped close the gashes on her face. She examined her handiwork and grinned. Doctor Chakwas would be hard pressed to find fault in it.

After brushing her teeth, she exited the bathroom and tossed the used towels down the laundry chute. There was a hum as the vacuum activated and sucked the towels at terminal velocity to their destination. Shepard took a moment to look at her quarters.

The place felt like a big waste of space. In the Alliance, you learnt to make do with the space you got. Gazing at her expansive living accommodations, it made her miss the rack which she had when she was a lowly Private. Her eyes roamed the room. She wondered why she had bought a space hamster or the ship models. Her eyes rested on the aquarium.

Her hand rested on the glass. Shepard gave a start. She had no idea that she had moved towards the fish. She tapped a staccato beat on the glass, sending the fish into a flurry. The commander shrugged. Aside from adding some moving colour to the room, she could see no real purpose to them.

Enough idle contemplation or otherwise she would still be standing here when the Reaper hordes come, Shepard rebuked herself silently as she opened the wardrobe and dressed. However, she paused at her jacket, staring down at the Cerberus emblem.

Decision reached, she took out a combat knife from the wardrobe and worked the blade under the stitches. With short quick cuts, she removed the emblem and tossed it aside. She shrugged into the jacket, zipping it up as she strode back to her desk.

The proximity sensor detected her and the holophoto flickered on. She stared for a minute at Liara's picture. Whatever trouble her asari lover was in, she would not accept Shepard's help. She could understand that. She could respect that - in her mind at least; her heart was another matter entirely.

Shepard sighed softly; it was no use sitting here worrying about Liara. Instead, she buried herself under sitreps. Miranda did a fine job of keeping the Normandy running like a well-oiled machine but the commander wanted to get a handle on the situation herself.

Time ticked by and Shepard began to get a headache as she bored through the various reports. The news was bleak. Miranda had forwarded a financial statement for the operational costs of the Normandy. By calculations, there were only enough funds to keep the ship running smoothly and crew salaries paid for three months. Appended to the report was a proposal for cost-cutting measures.

However, repairing the Normandy completely would deplete the ship's funds completely. Miranda had discussed with Tali, the engineering team, Jacob, Garrus, Joker and EDI which damaged areas were essential to Normandy's operations. Shepard rubbed her temple, trying to rub out her headache. The consensus of the discussion was that all upgrades to the Normandy were critical to the ship's survival if another agent of the Reapers came after them.

The commander glanced around. Her eyes fell on the ship model of the old Normandy. There was no way in hell that she would let its fate befall her new ship. She made a notation to the report and forwarded it to Miranda, Tali, Jacob, Garrus, Joker and EDI. The notation read: 'Make hull armour and engine repairs top priority. Let's live to fight another day.'

Shepard glanced at the computer system's clock. It showed: 10:20. She cracked her neck and rotated her shoulders, trying to relieve stiff muscles. She had been sitting there for nearly two hours. Strange how time just flies when you're having fun, she thought sarcastically to herself.

The door chimed.

Yeoman Chambers entered the room bearing a mug of coffee and a datapad.

"Good morning, Commander," Kelly greeted with a sunny smile. Then she stared when she saw the bruises on the commander's face. "Oh my gosh, what happened to you?"

Shepard touched her face self-consciously. "Just needed to blow off some steam. It's not as bad as it looks," she hurriedly assured her administrative assistant, embarrassed by her concern.

Kelly nodded stiffly, seemed to recover herself and handed Shepard the datapad. "Doctor Chakwas asked me to pass you this report on the status of the injured crew."

As Shepard reviewed the report, a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Kelly's hand was shaking slightly as she placed the coffee mug on the desk. It made the commander covertly look at her assistant over the datapad. Beneath her sunshine disposition, there lurked a shadow. Her green eyes looked haunted.

"Kelly, have you got a few a minutes?" Shepard asked quietly. "I would like to talk to you."

Kelly started in surprise. "Shepard, you really don't have to –," she began, clearly flustered.

"My ship, my rules," Shepard interrupted firmly. She pointed towards the sofa. "Now, park your behind over there, yeoman. That's an order."

The younger woman opened her mouth to argue then sighed in resignation. She made her way to the sofa and sat down, perched on the edge. Shepard eyed Kelly as she took a seat next to her. The woman was definitely nervous and anxious. Shepard leaned forward and clasped her hands, trying to think on how to broach the subject about Kelly's traumatic experience in the Collector pod.

"How are you holding up, Kelly?" she asked simply instead.

Kelly leaned forward, covered her face in her hands for several long moments. She began to shake violently like the last leaf of autumn in the first breeze of winter. A sound like a harsh sob broke from her slender frame. Finally, Kelly lowered her hands.

Her eyes went blank. She seemed to go into a trance and then with vivid detail, she recounted her experience in the Collector pod. It eerily reminded Shepard of Thane when he spoke of his past kills.

Could her eidetic memory be why the Illusive Man singled her out to be part of the Lazarus Cell? Shepard wondered silently then shook her head slightly. Whatever the reason, Kelly was on board the Normandy now. That made her Shepard's crew and responsibility.

When at last Kelly's memory had run its course, her frame seemed to collapse in on itself. The shakes returned even more violently than before. She buried her face in her hands as she began to cry softly.

"Kelly, I can't promise you that the nightmares would stop," Shepard whispered as she gathered the shaking young woman into her arms and soothing stroke her back. "That would be a lie. But, I can promise you that we're going to make the Reapers pay."

Kelly drew a deep breath and then another. "I believe you," she whispered quietly, returning the embrace and holding tight.

* * *

It had taken some time for Kelly to cry herself out but when it was over, the younger woman had returned to some semblance to her old self. As the yeoman had put it herself, she could not dwell on the past but move forward. The yeoman had left Shepard's quarters with renewed purpose.

Shepard entered the lift, pressed Engineering Deck and leaned against the wall. She closed her eyes. The hours she had been awake seemed to weigh her down. She tapped the book she brought from her cabin against the lift wall. Its hard cover made a dull thump.

The elevator slowed to a halt and the doors open. Shepard opened her eyes to see Mordin join her in the car. As usual, the salarian scientist seemed to buzz with energy.

"Ah, Shepard. Good morning," the professor greeted. His eyes gave her the once-over, even with his brief inspection, the human felt that the salarian had dissected her from head to toe. "Hmm. Presence of facial contusions. Interesting. Would indicate a brawl. You, still up and about. Conclusion: means that you won. Congratulations." He smiled, scars tugging at his cheeks.

Just then, the elevator stopped on the Engineering floor. The professor exited, turned and held the door open by placing a hand to the side.

"Oh, Shepard, forgot to say. Good speech. Much chest thumping. Reminds me of Captain Kirrahe's. Destruction of Collectors Base. Consequences are unforeseeable. Good luck. Been an honour serving under you."

With that, the alien set off jauntily in the direction of the Life Support room. Shepard smiled to herself ruefully. She had not managed to get a word in edgewise in that entire exchange.

* * *

The Engine room was quiet when Shepard entered. That itself was enough to raise the hairs on the back of her neck. She glanced at Kenneth and Gabby. The two engineers seemed to be absorbed in their work. Almost too absorbed.

Shepard walked up stealthily behind the quarian. The tech specialist was running diagnostics on the engine.

"Hey, Tali."

The quarian spared her a brief glance from her screen. "Oh, hello, Shepard," Tali replied. "Is there anything I can do for you? Otherwise, I'm in the middle of running some engine simulations."

Shepard tapped the book against the heel of her palm absently. "Any word on who will replace your father on the Admiralty Board?"

"Like I told you before, Shepard, the decision could take some time. Right now, I'm happy to be part of the Normandy."

Shepard frowned. Behind her visor, it was hard to discern the quarian's features. The alien sounded herself, if a bit too collected. She seemed preoccupied with the data, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

The commander leaned against the console. "What's really on your mind, Tali?"

Tali hesitated. She glanced over at the two engineers at their stations then beckoned for Shepard to join her in the core chamber.

"How are Engineer Donnelly and Engineer Daniels?" Shepard asked when they were out of earshot.

The quarian looked troubled but then again that was only based on a gut feeling. She leaned against the railing, looking up at the mass effect core. She seemed to find some peace in it.

"They're shaken, real quiet," Tali replied quietly. "I miss their banter, Shepard." She paused for a moment then continued. "Well, that's not surprising after all they have been through. Most of the crew is acting the same way. I think they are waiting to hear from you."

The quarian glanced sideways at Shepard then looked down as if embarrassed. "I'm also waiting to hear your plans, Shepard. Blowing up the Collector base was the right move but one I think Cerberus would not approve of."

Her silence seemed to embolden the alien. Tali opened up more. "I trust you, Shepard. I know that you will do what's right. It's just that all this waiting… this floating around, waiting for something to happen…it's…. It's driving me nuts!"

Shepard touched her friend's arm, causing the alien to turn to look at her. "I won't let what happen to the old Normandy happen to us again. Don't worry. We will be plotting a jump through the mass relays in a few hours."

"Where will we be going?" Tali asked curiously. Her stance relaxed, she seemed reassured by Shepard's words.

Shepard told her.

* * *

Jack was lying on her makeshift bed, staring up at the ceiling. No, staring was the wrong word. Jack glowered at the ceiling. Maybe its steeliness pissed off the psychotic biotic, Shepard thought in amusement.

"Heads up."

Jack sat up quickly, eyes scanned for an enemy and when she saw Shepard, she relaxed slightly. If Death could ever be said to relax. The young woman caught the book that Shepard tossed her reflexively.

"What's this?" the biotic asked sullenly, turning the book slowly over in her hands. Her fingers rubbed the worn spine thoughtfully. The words on the cover were too faded to read.

"A collection of poems. Thought it would make a good going-away gift," Shepard answered as she leaned against the bulkhead, crossing her arms.

Jack frowned as she flipped open the cover. "Poetry? Is it supposed to 'enlighten me'?" she asked, her voice simmering with anger. She seemed enraged by the prospect. "Wait… you're not going to talk me out of it?" The biotic glared at Shepard suspiciously.

The commander shrugged eloquently. "A deal's a deal. You helped me with the Collectors. You're free to go."

The suspicion did not fade from her eyes. If anything, the distrust deepened in them. The psychopath seemed to search for something as she scrunitised Shepard's face. Whatever she found, she gave no indication.

"Just like that?"

Shepard nodded. "Just like that."

Jack frowned. "Thanks... for the book."

There was nothing else to say. Jack wasn't a hugger and Shepard did not want to risk dying again just to have a sentimental moment. She was brave not crazy.

"See you around, Jack," Shepard said and turned to go. "Take care of yourself."

Jack snorted in disgust."I always do." The biotic shrugged uneasily, seemed to struggle for more words and failed.

Shepard reached the staircase and was about to climb when Jack's next words stopped her.

"Try to stay alive," Jack called out after her.

Shepard paused for a moment before continuing to climb up the staircase. Hard to stay alive when most of the galaxy thought you were dead and those that knew you were alive was trying to kill you.

* * *

Shepard was still mulling on what Jack had said so she had not been paying attention. Or otherwise, she would have heard the sound of boots stealthily scuffing the metal flooring just outside in the outer corridor. If she had been alert, she would never have been caught off-guard.

As the door to the outer corridor opened, a gauntleted fist smashed through the opening. Shepard's head snapped back as the blow connected, knocking her backwards and stunning her senseless.

Military training saved her from losing her balance. She stumbled, caught her balance and pivoted to face her attacker. A frontal kick caught her in the mid section, making her fall on her knees, breath whoosing from her lungs. Her attacker rushed her, spun her around and got her in a headlock. Her attacker pressed against her back as he pulled her up to her feet.

Cold steel pressed hard against her throat. Shepard struggled to break the hold as her hands reached to grasp the hand that held the blade.

"Playing goddamn hero time is over, Shepard, and your life is mine," a British accented voice breathed hotly into her ear. "You see, Commander, I'm a man of my word."

"Always knew you were a coward, Zaeed," Shepard snarled, her throat tight as the blade pressed harder against her throat, breaking skin and drawing blood. "You don't even have the balls to look me in the eyes as you kill me."

Her deliberate goading seemed to work for a microsecond then she felt the muscles in his arm as he started to draw the knife across her neck. Shit. He had her in a headlock. Even if she pushed the knife away, he could still snap her neck like a twig.

Suddenly, the blade left her skin. Zaeed cursed. There was a muffled grunt of pain and then his body was flung off Shepard. The commander turned to find the old mercenary splayed against the wall as if by a giant hand. Zaeed struggled ineffectively against the invisible hand.

"Want me to squash him like a fucking bug, Shepard?" Jack asked as she came up the stairs.

The sound of their scuffle must have drawn the paranoid ex-convict. She smiled with pleasure at the thought of being able to kill Zaeed. Shepard toyed with the idea of letting Jack have her way but the burning nick on her neck changed her mind.

"Sorry, Jack, but that pleasure's all mine," Shepard told her.

Jack looked disappointed of being robbed of a kill. Then the look of gleeful craziness returned.

"Make him bleed, Shepard. Make him bleed."

The biotic released Zaeed and watched cautiously. She looked ready to dismember him in a heartbeat. As soon as Zaeed's feet touched the ground, he stepped away from the wall and retreated a few steps, keeping Shepard and Jack in his line of sight.

Shepard kicked over the fallen knife to Zaeed. "Pick up the knife. Show me that you got some balls," Shepard taunted the mercenary.

Zaeed picked up the knife, eyes darting from Jack to Shepard.

He lunged with the knife forward, aiming for her gut. She sidestepped to the right and then stepped into his lunge, striking downward with her left forearm then going under and around Zaeed's forearm with it. She brought her forearm up – immobilizing him – and pushed forward, twisting the mercenary's wrist and pushing the blade towards Zaeed and the handle towards her. With her free hand, she grabbed the knife's handle and took the knife.

Within less than a heartbeat, the merc was disarmed.

In the same breath, Shepard flowed into attack: elbow to the face, knee in the gut and then a shoulder bash to send Zaeed backwards into the bulkhead.

It had happened so fast that the mercenary did not have time to realise he was pinned and weaponless before he was on the ground, coughing up blood. For good measure, Shepard kicked him hard several times in the groin.

"Didn't I warn you, Zaeed?" she hissed in low growl. "You're a badass but you're nothing compared to me." She shook her head in disgust as she absently flipped the knife in the air and caught it. "You should have killed me when you had the chance."

When the old war dog could answer, he glowered at Shepard. "We're two sides of the same coin, Shepard. The difference is that I don't pretend what I do is loftier cos I happen to wear a goddamn uniform."

"We're nothing alike, Zaeed," she answered. "I would have never abandoned those people in the refinery."

"Yeah? Well, Torfan says differently. You didn't care about the soldiers you had sent to die then, did you Shepard? Or the surrendered batarians you had murdered."

The anger building in her chest was suffocating. The memories of Torfan filled her mind. Good soldiers had died while soulless mercs like Zaeed still lived. Shepard breathed out slowly, releasing her rage and clearing her mind.

Zaeed continued to rant and rave. "The problem with you Alliance dogs is that you do not see the big picture."

"The only thing I see that is wrong with this picture, Zaeed, is that you're missing a big hole in your head," Shepard growled. "If you are not off my ship the minute we dock into a port, I swear that I will personally airlock you. Now, get the hell out of my sight."

She slid the combat knife into the top of her boot. Shepard got up and walked away. She had learnt over the course of her travels that krogan believed the worst insult you could give an enemy is say that he was not worth killing. That seemed fitting for Zaeed.

The insult was not lost on Zaeed. The old merc stood up. His eyes glowed with anger; rage shook his voice. With men like him, the worst thing you could do was injury their pride. "You have just made a dangerous enemy, Shepard."

"Yeah?" she replied softly over her shoulder. "Well, get in line, Zaeed."

The sound of pounding boots came and the outer corridor door opened to reveal a small security detail of three led by Jacob. They raised their assault rifles at Zaeed. The mercenary took a step back and raised his hands. At the arrival of security detail, Jack disappeared downstairs back into her 'lair'.

"Confine Zaeed to his quarters. When the Normandy docks, throw this trash out," Shepard ordered the men.

"With pleasure, Commander," Jacob replied and saluted.

Shepard nodded in acknowledgement and headed for the lift.

"Don't you dare turn your back on me, you bitch," Zaeed snarled as the security detail grabbed him. He struggled against the men holding him.

"I'll tear you apart!" the old merc screamed. "Shepard! SHEPARD!"

He began to scream some more obscenities but was cut off when Jacob nonchalantly backfisted him.

* * *

Shepard stepped into the elevator. She rubbed her throat. She could still feel the cold metal pressing against her neck. The security detail had arrived too fast. The only reason for that was EDI. The AI had probably noted the disturbance on the security cameras.

"EDI?"

"Commander Shepard?"

"Thank you."

"You are welcome, Commander."


	4. Chapter 4

**DRIFTING**

**Chapter 4: JACOB**

A weapon had a simple life. It did not ask questions. It was made for one purpose and only one purpose: to kill. Soldiers were supposed to be living weapons. Where the Alliance pointed, you shot. No questions asked. No need to reason why. Emotions were supposed to be buried so deep that they rarely saw the light of day. At least, that was then in what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Somehow, her world got screwed up until she could not tell which way was up anymore and it all began at Eden Prime.

Shepard picked up her M-6 Carnifex Hand Cannon from the bench. She turned the weapon, admiring the beautiful sheen along its muzzle. It still amazed her on how fast and far weapon technology had advanced in two years - with the help of Geth ingenuity. That brought Legion to her mind. The enemy of my enemy, she thought to herself.

The Commander slid the slide back, ejecting the thermal clip. It landed with a dull thump, a loud sound in the empty armory. She turned her sidearm over, double checked the thermal clip was out and then squeezed the trigger, keeping the gun muzzle pointed downwards and away from her. The slide slid back into place.

With sure, quick motions, she methodically stripped down her M-6 Carnifex Hand Cannon. It was almost like she was in boot camp again, zealously cleaning her rifle, the DI calling her a maggot and not worth the air that she breathed. A small wan smile blossomed from those memories.

The door to the armory opened. Shepard ignored it. The world had shrunk down to just her and her weapon. Routine weapon maintenance felt good and so...uncomplicated.

"There you are, Commander," Jacob announced as he entered the room. "I just wanted to update you on the Zaeed situation. We disabled his security surveillance, took all his weapons and stationed a security detail outside. That mother's not going anywhere and won't be trying anything funny again."

Shepard's eyes flickered towards him, considered briefly and returned to the weapon in her hands. She cleaned the bore with a brush, removing any residual metal shavings. Jacob watched her in silence as she wiped down the barrel with solvent-soaked cloth. The ex-soldier looked at the Commander. Her eyes had a fierce intensity to them as she cleaned her weapon.

"Damn, Shepard," he uttered with a low whistle. "Did you ever take a look at yourself in the mirror when you have a gun in your hands? You make Jack look as innocent as a blushing schoolgirl."

Shepard checked her work then reassembled her sidearm. Jacob's off-hand comment had brought a sardonic smile to her lips. "Aw, Jacob, you really do know how to sweet talk a girl," she cooed as she loaded a thermal clip, clicked on the safety and slid it into her hip holster.

The man chuckled deeply. "Oh, I can picture what a romantic date with you would be like," he responded. He spread his hands wide as if creating an invisible canvas. "There will be a line of shots at the bar. Seductive writhing on the dance floor. The future of the universe at stake. Enemies everywhere. And let's not forget explosions all around us."

Shepard laughed. It was a low, dry sound that made Jacob's skin prickle.

"I am…was a Marine, Jacob," Shepard replied, finally turning her full attention on him. She leaned against the work bench, crossing her arms lazily. "I like making things go 'boom'," she continued with a twisted grin.

There was a flicker of emotion in her eyes when she said 'boom', gone in a second. Jacob could not describe it. He realized then that it was not one emotion but a maelstrom of them. The Commander looked like she was holding it together but was she really on the inside, he wondered.

"I hear that," he agreed with a small smile. "Yeah, I hear that," he repeated more softly to himself.

Jacob lapsed into silence. "I heard from Miranda that you told the Illusive Man that he was no longer running the show."

The Commander grinned. "Let's just say that he did not take my resignation from Cerberus too well," she quipped lightly with a slight shrug.

The way that she had said it made Jacob's hair stand on end. Should he press on? He wondered. Oh well…no guts, no glory as the saying went.

"Your decision to blow up the Collector base could not have been an easy one. It can't help but make you think though and wonder 'what if?'"

Shepard sighed. Her gut had been telling her that Jacob had another agenda for engaging her other than to give her a status report on Zaeed. Did she really want to know? She asked herself. Or if she refused to delve would this be the bullet that bit her in ass? She leaned back to look at the ceiling and closed her eyes, mentally bracing herself.

"Is there something on your mind, Jacob?"

"Well, I was thinking about how blowing the Collector base was well and good cos you took a stand against Cerberus. But, what if it had been an Alliance mission? Would you still have done the same if Admiral Hackett had been the one to order you to save the base?"

Her violet-blue eyes flashed angrily as she turned towards him. Jacob had the sudden feeling that the Commander wanted to deck him. If he was in her position, he might have too. He was, after all, questioning her judgment and most of all, her integrity.

Truth be told, Jacob's questions had hit a little close to home. It also brought to mind Zaeed's accusation that she was an Alliance dog. She turned away from the ex-Marine, looked down at her hands as she composed herself. She flexed those long strong fingers that had held a gun and killed in the name of the Alliance and humanity.

Jacob saw the tempest in the Commander's eyes return. After a few moments, she seemed to have come to a decision. She nodded to herself.

When Shepard turned to look at him, the resolve in her eyes were clear. "I would have blown the base and faced a court martial for my decision." Her brow furrowed slightly. "Why do you ask, Jacob?"

The man took a moment before answering. His jaw twinged in anticipation of Shepard's fist smashing into it.

"The Commander Shepard which I had read about in the public records would have just nuked the Collectors. You have changed from the person you were at Torfan. I can't help but wonder why."

The resolve in her eyes faded, replaced by an unfathomable expression. For a long moment, she gazed at him then turned away slightly, shaking her head. Her lips moved and Jacob thought he heard her whisper: "It always comes back to Torfan, doesn't it?"

"What was that, Commander?"

Shepard did not reply and did not seem to have any intention of doing so. Her hand slid down and rested on the butt of her gun. The unfathomable expression left her eyes. Then she spoke in a quiet voice, her words like steel and as unfeeling.

"A lot of good soldiers died at Torfan. Some of them were even my friends. If I could go back in time, I would have made the same decision again."

The Commander smiled a dark smile. "My nickname, 'the Butcher of Torfan', is well-deserved, Jacob. Admiral Hackett was right not to persecute the people trying to desecrate my memorial."

Shepard seemed to have had enough of soul-searching questions. Without another word, she quickly strode to the armory's exit only to stop as the doors open. She glanced back over her shoulder. The coldness in her eyes chilled Jacob's soul.

"I wish that I could say that I blew up the Collector base because I wanted to honour the lives sacrificed for it. But that was only a part of it. The thought of Cerberus using the technology for their own means – I couldn't live with that.

"To be honest, I don't really know the whole reason why I blew up the Collector base… Perhaps being dead has given me a new perspective on life." A trace of cynicism coated those last few words.

Jacob saw the Commander's hand clenched into a fist. It was several moments before she relaxed it. If he had thought her tone was cold before, now it could freeze the sun.

"But I do know one thing for certain. If it takes the Butcher of Torfan to end the Reaper threat once and for all then I would gladly become the Butcher again. That, Mister Taylor, is where I stand and all that you need to know."

The steel doors closed behind the Commander but a stronger, greater barrier had erected between her and Jacob.


	5. Chapter 5

**DRIFTING**

**Chapter 5: SAMARA and JACOB**

Across the black expanse of space, stars were dying; stars were being born. An endless shining sea of time and she was swept up in its currents. She was pulled along; no, she swam; no, she soared among the stars. In the void between life and death existed eternity and she was one with it.

Quiet footsteps sounded with a familiar confident tread. The doors swooshed softly opened. A shadow darkened her doorway. She recognised the presence immediately without turning around.

"Shepard," Samara greeted her visitor cordially. She opened her eyes slowly, reconnecting with the world as the chains of duty bonded her again to this plane.

If the human was surprised that Samara knew it was her, she did not show it. Instead, she strode into the room without any visible sign of unease. Few beings in the galaxy would have been so comfortable in the presence of a Justicar. But, the Commander was different. She wore authority as if it was a second skin. It fitted her as naturally as the sidearm she carried or the menacing aura of danger that trailed her like a shadow.

It was that unconscious aura which had attracted her daughter Morinth to Shepard and led to her eventual death. The thought disturbed Samara; her hands clenched slightly on her knees. Although she was at peace with the outcome, she had wished that Morinth had not chosen her path. She hurriedly smoothed her expression to its normal serene countenance as Shepard drew nearer.

The human courteously moved into Samara's line of sight so that she did not have to turn her head to look at the Commander.

"Samara, I thought we could chat for a bit," Shepard said warmly. The smile that the human offered was friendly and it filled her voice. The radiance of it eased the darkness in the asari a little.

Samara noted the fresh bruises and taped gashes on the Commander's face; the bandages wound around her arms. It seemed that the human could not stay out of trouble, even for a day, even on her own ship. The Justicar could not help feeling amused at that thought.

The answering smile that rose from her darkest depths was unbidden. There were precious few moments for Samara to smile at during the last 400 years. She was surprised then at how easy it came to her in the human's presence.

"Yes, I would like that," she answered, indicating with a nod of her head that Shepard should take a seat on the floor next to her.

To her astonishment, the human declined and instead moved to gaze out at the starscape, crossing her arms and adopting a casual stance. There was something about the way Shepard moved caught Samara's attention. It reminded her of a caged krogan. A flash of concern wormed its way into Samara's serene state.

Samara came to stand next to the Commander but instead of studying the stars, she studied the human more closely. Now that she was close enough, she could see a long, shallow gash over the bruises on Shepard's neck. Could it have been from a claw…or a blade? The suspects for that wound could be narrowed down to the krogan, turian, drell or a human. Perhaps, Jack or Zaeed? Her investigative instincts locked on Zaeed… yes, that cold-blooded mercenary had threatened Shepard before. Samara put the thought of Zaeed from her out. Zaeed, she thought, could be dealt with later.

Shepard wore the Cerberus uniform but the Cerberus emblem was gone. Samara knew little of that shadow organization but from what she had read, its credo was 'the ends justified the means'. The asari could admit to herself that when she found out that Shepard worked with such an organization, she would have been ruthless in her pursuit of the Collectors.

The Justicar was surprised that the Commander had been balanced; compassionate and merciful when the situation called for it and brutal and efficient in other times. It was good that she did not have to kill the human now that her oath was ended.

"With the Collector Base destroyed, your oath to me has been fulfilled, Samara," Shepard commented suddenly, calm violet-blue eyes turning to consider the asari. "What will you do now?"

Samara turned her study to the stars. She had lost count of the many hours she had sat in the Observation Deck and looked out at those glowing orbs in the darkness, contemplating her future.

"I'm a Justicar, Shepard. There are still many lost places where villainy rules," she replied. "I was thinking of taking a shuttle to Omega station. After that, I might visit Tuchanka and bring some law and order to the krogans."

Shepard slyly smiled at the thought of Wrex facing down a Justicar. It would be a hard battle between the two. Tuchanka might not survive their fight. "And what if they don't like your 'law and order'?"

The asari considered the question for a brief moment then laughed. "They will learn to like it."

Shepard grinned then winced. Her facial muscles rebelled against any exercise right now. She flexed her jaw, working through the pain. Shepard wondered why the asari was watching her so closely.

"It's been an honour knowing you, Samara," Shepard murmured after a moment. She held out her hand to the asari. "This universe needs more people like the Justicars to fight for those no one else will fight for."

Samara regarded the proffered hand for a moment. Handshakes. According to extranet documents, it was a human custom which evolved in their early civilizations to convey peace, trust and fellowship. With the human galactic expansion, they brought this custom with them, heedless that some alien species may not want the contact of bare skin with foreigners or that it was against their customs.

The widespread acceptance of the handshake in interspecies meetings was a clear indication of how influential the human race was. Some alien races call that influence to be a sign of humans' subversion.

In any case, humans were indeed a curious species and the Commander was an intriguing person. Samara shook her head mentally at herself and stopped that train of thought. It would be time soon for the Commander and her to part ways. She could not afford to dwell on such sentimentality now. It would make the farewell so much harder.

The Justicar accepted the human's right hand and shook it briefly. Shepard's grip was strong and sure, her palm callused. The human's eyes were earnest as she studied the asari, seeming to look deeply into her soul. Samara had the feeling that she was drowning in those violet-blue eyes. She disengaged their contact and dropped her gaze before she lost herself in them.

"I am glad that we were fated to meet, Shepard," Samara said to fill the silence that emerged. "Now with the threat of the Collectors gone, I am free. And as a free being, I would like to get to know more about the human I call my friend."

The way that Samara had said 'friend' caught Shepard's ear. It had a certain inflection. Shepard considered the probing inquiry. She shrugged uneasily, unconsciously rubbing the back of her neck. The asari watched the human closely. She wondered if the Commander knew that she had a tell for when she was uncomfortable.

"Fair enough," Shepard agreed after a moment. She turned and gestured towards the floor.

The two women took their respective seats, Samara in her customary cross-legged position and Shepard with her knees bent, arms loosely looped around her knees. On the surface, she still looked at ease but there was something in her eyes that gave the asari the impression she was poised, ready to draw her sidearm in a heartbeat.

"So… shoot," Shepard encouraged with a small nod.

Samara's lips quirked into a half smile. That was a very curious expression and very soldier-like. It made her even more curious about Shepard's history, what past experiences carved her into the woman she was today.

"Relax, Shepard," Samara said. "You're not facing a firing squad, just a few questions." She leaned forward, fixed her with an intense gaze. "Tell me more about your life before the Alliance, Commander."

Shepard had been wondering where the asari's line of questioning was headed. At least it was not about bloody Torfan, she thought wryly to herself. Life before the Alliance, huh? Not many people took an interest in her past and she preferred it that way.

"I'm no saint, Samara. I grew up on Earth, ran with gangs. Back then, it was fight or be crushed into the dust. I was a criminal, doing mostly smuggling…and other things," Shepard answered after several long moments.

Her eyes darkened with memory. Her voice lowered as if weighed down by a heavy burden. She turned her right hand and stared at it. "I was very good at what I did. I climbed the ranks fast." Her voice turned as dry as a desert. "If we had met then, you would have shot me without hesitation and with good cause. I would have tried to kill you just because you stood in my way."

There was no regret in the woman's voice. Only a calm acceptance of what she did in her past. Samara lifted her hand to reach to touch the human, hesitated then let it drop. Shepard was not asking for pity and she would be insulted if Samara offered it.

"That may be but the woman I see in front of me now is not a criminal," the asari replied softly. "Just a ronin who has not lost her honour."

"Ronin, huh?"

Shepard threw back her head and laughed. A masterless samurai. What an apt description! She had been abandoned by the Alliance and the Council. Even her Spectre status had little meaning over the course of her mission to destroy the Collectors.

The Commander caught her breath, drew a deeper one and then another. The pain in her ribs brought her mind into focus. She mentally steadied herself. "Ronin or not, I still got a job to do," she said more to herself than Samara.

There was some deep emotion in her voice that pulled Samara in like a vortex. She could not sit still any longer. She was as surprised as Shepard when her hand touched her shoulder and when the human turned to look at her, moved to cradle her cheek.

Shepard did not draw away immediately. Her eyes closed and then opened again. There was a fire in them but the asari could see that it did not burn for her. With deliberate and gentle movements, the human very slowly disengaged herself from Samara's touch. Shepard's eyes were apologetic.

"Forgive me, Shepard," Samara said softly. "I lost control of myself for a moment. It will not happen again." The asari stood, once again the regal warrior. "Excuse me," she murmured and moved to leave the room.

She hesitated at the door and turned to look over her shoulder. "Shepard," she asked softly, her voice low and intense. "What happened to your neck?"

Shepard rubbed the gash self-consciously. It felt like a poker being dragged across her skin. She grimaced slightly. "This? It's a going-away present from Zaeed."

"I see," was all that Samara said before she left.

Alone in the Observation Deck, Shepard raised her hand to touch her cheek. If she had kept her eyes closed, she could have pretended it had been Liara's touch, Liara comforting her. Shepard shook her head slightly. She could not fathom why Samara had done what she did.

"What the hell was that all about?" she asked the empty room.

* * *

Jacob found Shepard in the Observation Deck, lounging on one of the sofas. She seemed to be deep in thought, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, hands together in a fist. Yet as deep in thought as she was, she turned her head at his approach.

"Jacob, coming back for round two?" she said, her voice low and challenging. She eyed the canter in his hands. "What's that?"

Jacob hefted the bottle of Serrice Ice brandy and two glasses self consciously.

"A peace offering." He paused then continued. "Garrus' advice. He said that if I was stupid enough to piss you off, I better not show up empty handed."

As he figured, the mention of the turian brought a smile to her face. She seemed to relax slightly. Or, at least, the look of murder dimmed in her eyes. "The turian knows me too well."

She leaned back and nodded to the seat next to her. Jacob took it. They were silent as the man poured out two shots of brandy. Shepard twirled her glass lazily, looking down at it before raising her eyes to stake Jacob to the spot.

"I'm listening, Jacob," she said softly, yet her tone hinted that she would not for long. "If you don't like the thought of following me against the Reapers, you know where the shuttle is."

Jacob took a long drink before replying. "I did not mean to attack you back in the armory. And if it seemed like I was gunning for you, I'm sorry it came out that way. But to speak frankly, Commander, your back is against the wall right now."

Shepard took a drink, her eyes tightened at what Jacob said. She nodded for him to go on. He took another gulp of liquid courage and a thought occurred to him – maybe Garrus had intended the brandy not only to soothe Shepard's temper but to put some steel in Jacob's backbone. He took another drink and plodded forward.

"For all your loyalty to the Council, you might as well still be dead to them. Reinstated Spectre status be damned. The Alliance thinks you're a Cerberus dog. And Cerberus will be after you now. You can bet the entire cost of the Lazarus Project that the Illusive Man will spare no expense to capture you. And I know the Illusive Man, if he can't have you, he'll destroy you. "

Wordlessly, Shepard drained her drink and placed the glass to the floor. She seemed to turn over what Jacob had said in her mind.

"You seem to have a pretty good handle on the situation, Jacob," Shepard said after a long moment. Then she smiled. It was a very unpleasant smile that put the chill in bone.

"But you're forgetting one thing. The Reapers are coming. I don't have time to sail this political shit storm. All races need to stand united against them or otherwise we will be annihilated," she explained. She looked out at the viewing port. "Or worse, end up like the Protheans."

"That's all well and good but I want to know what your plan is."

Shepard turned her attention back to him. She rubbed her shoulder absently as if it pained her and then cracked her neck. Jacob could tell the Commander was wound up tight.

"Have Joker send them the bio-scans that the Collectors were once Protheans. Give those fools on the Council proof that they cannot deny," she answered with conviction. Her eyes looked ready to battle.

Jacob picked up her glass and refilled it. She accepted it with a nod of thanks.

"They're politicians, Shepard. They only see what they want to see. Even with Anderson on the Council, you will have a slim chance of convincing them."

"Well, a slim chance is better than none."

Shepard snapped then regretted her outburst. She sighed. So many enemies, so few allies. "So, are you with me or against me?"

Jacob was silent for many moments before he finally answered.

"Cannon to right of them, cannon to left of them, cannon in front of them volley'd and thunder'd; storm'd at with shot and shell. Boldly they rode and well, into the jaws of Death, into the mouth of Hell rode the six hundred," Jacob quoted softly.

The man turned to look at her, his gaze steady and determined. "I was always with you, Shepard," he said.

"Cannon to right of them, cannon to left of them, cannon behind them volley'd and thunder'd; storm'd at with shot and shell, while horse and hero fell, they that had fought so well came thro' the jaws of Death, back from the mouth of Hell, all that was left of them, left of six hundred," Shepard quoted in reply.

She was silent and then she smiled; a melancholic smile. "You're the second Marine I had met that read the classics." The smile faded after a moment. Memories of Ash tended to do that.

"Did a paper on Tennyson to pass Literature class," Jacob explained with a slight shrug. "You got the job done. I can't argue with results. Ours is not to make reply, ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do and die, right, Commander?"

"Hell, somebody's got to save the universe," Shepard quipped.

Jacob laughed. "Well, I'm just glad you're the one stuck with that dirty job. You're a tenacious mother, Shepard. Fine. I'm with you, for the long haul. Into the mouth of Hell…again."

He offered a forearm.

Shepard clasped the offered forearm.

"You may not get a medal after all this has been said and done, Mister Taylor, but I promise you that you will get a nice warm and fuzzy feeling."

She released her grasp and poured herself another drink.

The man smiled, baring his teeth and raised his glass in a toast. "Semper fi, Commander, semper fi."

"Oorah!"


	6. Chapter 6

**DRIFTING**

_Author's Note: _

_11.3.10 _

_Was re-reading DRIFTING from the beginning and felt that the story's flow to the meeting where Shepard announces her plan seemed too abrupt. It was, like a friend said, a bolt out of the blue. The chapter where she announces her plan also seemed to be lacking in some ways – like insubstantial somehow. I have moved that chapter to become the new Chapter 7 and am rewriting it to be better. Hopefully, these corrections will improve the story. I apologise for the muddle._

**Chapter 6: THANE, ZAEED, LEGION and KELLY**

War was coming. That was what her blood and bone told her. Somewhere, out there, in that crowded star-studded space were the Reapers.

The Commander was alone in the Observation Deck. Jacob had tottered off earlier, saying that he needed a lie-down and cursing vehemently Shepard's ability to drink brandy as if it was water. She had merely shrugged in reply - she had been cursed worse by her men on Torfan as they lie dying.

Shepard peered pensively at the distant stars, chin propped on a fist. She knew that she looked like a picture of serenity but inside, her thoughts swirled violently.

The Reapers were coming and there was not a damn thing she could do about it. In her mind replayed the horrific memories from the Prothean Cipher. If she closed her eyes, she thought that she could hear their wraith-like screams of agony as they writhed in the flames that consumed their cities and worlds.

The Commander had lost count of how many times she had woken up in a cold sweat from nightmares born from those holocaust memories. Desensitized to violence as she was, she only had to imagine Earth or a colony set ablaze in that hellish destruction and the chill crept again into her bones.

In a way, the Prothean beacon was both a blessing and a curse.

The Protheans had been wiped out before they knew what hit them. Now, the Reapers did not have the advantage of surprise - that is, if only those fools on the Council would listen!

Sun Tzu had said that all warfare is based on deception. The Reapers then were masters of war, they had the Council deluded that the Reapers were the ravings of Saren. What was worse was that the Alliance also shared that theory. Fools, the lot of them!

The feeling of impending death and destruction seemed to pulse to the beat of her heart like distant thunder.

Shepard closed her eyes. Sun Tzu had also said that invincibility lies in the defense; the possibility of victory in the attack. There was truth in those words but how, how could she achieve them? Her thoughts shifted as if pieces of a jigsaw puzzle trying to fit together.

Then slowly, ever so slowly, everything fell into place.

Shepard stood and strode before the glass window. Stars twinkled in the distance as if mocking her and the futility of her mission.

The glass pane shivered when she punched it. Oh alright, she imagined that it shivered. It was engineered after all to withstand damage in a space battle. She needed a little ego stroking once in awhile.

"Take a walk with me, Commander?"

A finger of ice ran up her spine at the voice and it took every ounce of self control that she had not to spin around and shoot. Instead, she clasped her forearms around herself and turned slowly, the very picture of calm. Inside, her heart raced.

She had to give that man credit. He was very good at his job. She had not even heard him come up behind her.

Black eyes blinked languidly at her in amusement. It was rare to see the human commander so flustered. He was pleased that he had managed to catch her off-guard and a rare smile quirked his full, firm lips.

Shepard gave up all pretense of solemnity. Her ego be damned. She gave him a sheepish grin and embarrassed shrug, ducking her head a little as she stepped closer to him. Suddenly, all her fears and doubts vanished. It was like she had stepped into a bubble of his unruffled calm.

"Sure, Thane, I have been meaning to speak with you as well."

The imposing drell looked down at her and jerked his head towards the Observation Deck's doors. They fell in step with each other as they made their way to the Life Support room.

His walk was lithe and graceful. Hers, more like a confident predator. Both inspired awe and fear in those that saw them.

"You have the look of one on the eve of battle, Commander," the drell commented suddenly at the door to the Life Support room.

Shepard eyed the reptilian alien but did not answer. Her gut told her that the former assassin was building up to something. If patience was his virtue, she could be patient as well.

In the Life Support room, they took their customary seats. For a long time, they sat just silently looking at each other. Then, with slow and deliberation movements, the drell placed his gun on the table between them.

"I want to help against the Reapers, Siha," he said softly and firmly, as serious as a knife being drawn from its sheath.

Shepard sized up the drell for a moment then shifted her focus to his gun. She reached out to touch the barrel, hesitated briefly a finger's width away and then picked it up. She turned the weapon over in her hands.

A weapon had a simple life. It did not ask questions. It had no attachments. But, Thane was not a weapon any longer.

The Commander turned placed the gun back on the desk and pushed it back to the drell, butt first.

"You have done more than enough, Thane," she replied firmly, softly. "Use whatever time you have left to be with your son." She paused then added even more softly. "He needs you now."

Instead of looking happy or relieved, the drell merely sighed and did not take the weapon. He stared at it then raised his eyes to look levelly into hers. His voice took on a deep rumble.

"The Reapers are important. I could be useful."

Shepard shook her head. The lie that he could be a liability to her was on her lips but she could not say it. Thane had proven countless times during their mission against the Collectors of how much an asset he had been.

"You and I both know that if you spend what life you have now at my side, the regret of not being with your son will haunt you for the rest of your days."

Thane shook his head stubbornly. He would not back down without a fight. She could see that now in the way he squared his shoulders. Shepard tried not to gape in astonishment. What was this, a contest of wills?

"And what kind of father would I be if I let something like the Reapers come?" the drell retorted angrily. "How can I face my son when I know that the Reapers are coming?"

He pounded the desk with a fist. "I rather live the last days of my life fighting with purpose than live it waiting to die."

"Damn it, Thane. Stop running away!"

She was as surprised as the drell that she had yelled. Shepard had no idea where those words had come from but they rang cruelly true in the silence that emerged between them. She ran a hand through her hair as she composed herself.

"You have lost so much time. You should not waste another second," she continued on in a softer tone. "Live, Thane. There's no shame in wanting to live. Go to the Citadel."

Shepard watched as his anger crumbled, leaving behind a deep sorrow that she could not begin to comprehend. Tears fell soundlessly from his eyes; tears of shame and self-loathing. The Commander had not known that drell could cry. The sight moved her so that she moved without thought.

She went over to the alien and pulled him into her arms. She could not take the pain and guilt away but she could at least hold him while he buried it.

"You don't want the only memories your son has of you to be that of an assassin who was never there, right?" she whispered against his neck as she stroke his back.

* * *

Metal rasped on metal. Quick, soft scraping sounds that filled the room.

Zaeed sharpened the small metal shiv in his hands with smooth, measured strokes. He would stop occasionally to raise his makeshift weapon to eye level and critically examine his handiwork. Once satisfied of its shape, he tested its sharpness against the pad of his thumb.

A small smile manifested on his scarred features. He laid the shiv reverently down next to three other shivs.

The mercenary picked up another small block of metal and set it against the pumice stone. Soon, Shepard, very soon, your life will be mine, he thought to himself.

Metal rasped on metal. Quick, soft scraping sounds that filled the room.

* * *

Legion had not been where she thought it would be. The AI room was empty. Shepard queried Doctor Chakwas but she did not know the whereabouts of the geth either but informed Shepard that Jacob had come by earlier for some aspirin.

EDI, who had been listening in, supplied the information without any prompting.

Shepard found the geth in the Armory. The geth was cleaning its rifle. It was not a sight that comforted the Commander but instead filled her with dread. Yet, at the same time, the sight fascinated her.

For awhile, she studied the way it maintained its weapon. Its movements were slow, methodical, precise. The geth seemed to caress the barrel with the rag. It seemed to take pride in its work. As much pride as she had when she had been cleaning her weapon earlier?

She cleared her throat loudly.

Legion whirled, dropping into a firing stance, rifle pointed at her. Shepard flinched but other than that had no reaction. Her mind told her that if the geth had followed protocol, it would have discharged the thermal clip before proceeding with the cleaning. Indeed, there was a thermal clip on the workbench.

When the geth recognized her, it lowered its weapon, muzzle pointed at the ground. It moved stiffly… as if embarrassed or chagrined. Its head flaps flared and contorted into a 'frown'. It still unnerved Shepard to see geth with so much expression on their face.

"Shepard-Commander, do you have a task for this unit?" it enquired after a moment.

Instead of answering immediately, the Commander came closer to the geth. Its head flaps twitched and it cocked its head to the side quizzically. She held out her hand, palm up and gestured for the geth to hand her its sniper rifle. It did so without delay.

Shepard hefted the weapon. Its weight was heavier than normal and would be considered cumbersome to any normal rifleman. But then again, Legion was not any normal rifleman. Resting the butt of the weapon against her shoulder, she picked up the thermal clip with one and loaded the rifle. She sighted along the barrel.

Then without warning, she suddenly turned the weapon on the geth.

Legion took a step back.

"Shepard-Commander, weapon has been been calibrated for optimum performance," the geth assured her. "There is no need for a test fire."

Shepard lowered the rifle and handed it back to the geth. She gave it a begrudging nod of approval. "That's a damn fine job you did on weapon maintenance, Legion."

The geth stared at her for a moment. It looked…pleased. Then it took back the weapon and discharged the thermal clip before putting it back into the weapons locker. Shepard watched it work silently.

"Legion, do you believe that geth have souls?" she asked suddenly.

* * *

"Kelly!" Shepard barked as she came out of the Armory.

The yeoman whirled from her station to see what the emergency was. Finding none, she studied the Commander. The woman seemed to burn with intensity, her violet-blue eyes were all fired up.

"Yes, Commander?"

"Inform Garrus, Tali, Miranda, Jacob, Professor Mordin, Grunt, Joker, Dr Chakwas and Legion that I want to meet with them in the Communications Room in 15 minutes," Shepard requested as she entered the elevator.

"Aye aye, ma'am," Kelly replied quickly, her eyes and voice full of questions. "What shall I say is the purpose of the meeting?"

Shepard tapped level for her Quarters. She caught the yeoman's eye and held it as the doors began to close.

"The Reapers."


	7. Chapter 7

**DRIFTING**

_Author's Note: _

_14.3.10 _

_Edited to build up tension, add in plot details as well as improve characterizations. So, here it is… Version 2 of Chapter 6, which has become Chapter 7. Hopefully, it is an improvement over the old version. Been working on this since Wednesday._

**Chapter 7: JOKER, TALI, GARRUS, DR CHAKWAS, MIRANDA, JACOB, MORDIN, EDI and LEGION**

Invincibility lies in the defense; the possibility of victory in the attack. Those words repeated endlessly in her head like a mantra as Shepard waited in the Communications Room for the others to show up.

She had nipped upstairs to her quarters for a quick change of clothes, to freshen up and grab some old scouting reports acquired from the Alliance's military files. She arrived to find the Communications Room empty. Good, she thought to herself as she took a seat at the head of the conference table, it gave her some time to prep for the brief.

Shepard was reviewing the reports, making notations of pirate raids in different sectors when Garrus and Tali entered the room. The turian was in the middle of relating a story to the quarian.

"And so I said to the volus, 'Make an exception just this once.' Of course, the volus tried to be funny and set his krogan goons on us so Shepard and I loaded them with molten metal. You know what the Commander's response was? 'Too slow'. Ha!"

Tali nodded and replied in amusement. "That does sound like what the Commander would say. Short, sweet, to the point and backed up by a bullet."

The two aliens nodded in greeting to Shepard and wordlessly took their seats on either side of her. Shepard paused in her review of the reports to covertly glance at her friends. It felt natural; it felt right that they should be at her side. Garrus and Tali were the only two alien friends who had stayed with her since she came back from the dead.

It did not take long for the rest to arrive. Miranda came in; all cool, confident and curious. She was followed by Jacob, Mordin, Grunt and Dr Chakwas. Jacob looked like he had a bad headache and his suffering eyes shone brightly with unshed tears of pain. Legion was missing but that was not unexpected after their talk in the Armory.

The last to arrive was Joker. Shepard watched her old friend make his way slowly to his seat. He moved gingerly and with great care. The Commander often wondered if the technology used in the Lazarus Project could be used to help the helmsman. She would have to ask Miranda about that later. The helmsman surveyed the room with an amused grin – like he knew a joke which no one else did.

Shepard could see that everyone was evaluating who was present at the meeting and who was absent. Whatever conclusions they came to in their minds, they kept to themselves. Once everyone was seated, Shepard pressed a button on the intercom and Kelly brought in the glasses of water for everyone. She exited the room with a courteous 'Commander'.

Now, everyone's attention focused on her and there was an excited air of anticipation. It crawled along her skin like an army of ants. Don't wuss out, Shepard, she told herself. You can do this. She stood so that everyone could see her better.

"Now that you most of you are here, let's get this meeting started," Shepard said as warmly as she could. "I have a plan to combat the Reapers but first I have an announcement to make."

That sharpened their attention. Those who were lounging in their seats leaned forward with interest.

"The Council and Alliance have made it very clear that they think the Reapers were some Prothean folklore. I'm not going to let their stubbornness get us all killed. So…so I have decided to defect from the Alliance and give up my Spectre status for good."

She could see that she stunned them but she was not done. She paused. The next few words were hard to say, stuck in her throat. She had to do it quickly – fast and without hesitation like a bandage. She steadied her nerves and finished her announcement.

"Then I'm going to raise my own Fleet and army to deal with the Reapers."

There was a deafening silence in the Communications Room.

She looked upon the faces of her friends and allies and thought that they looked like they were trapped in a Collector's stasis field. She had watched their expressions change from mild curiosity to dreadful realization in the short space of a few minutes.

Shepard knew that once they had time to absorb what she had said, the silence would be broken. It was Joker who spoke out first, naturally. Well, 'spoke out' was an understatement. He exploded.

"Commander, you can't be serious!"

Shepard looked at her friend, seated directly across from her. The pilot's normal devil-may-care attitude was nowhere in sight. He looked worried, cornered and she was the one who had him cornered – with a gun to his head. She felt a flicker of regret for putting him in that position.

"I'm dead serious, Joker."

Her tone left no doubt in everyone present in the room that Shepard was committed to her plan. The Commander looked as sombre as the grave. As well as she should, after all, her plan for the Reapers Campaign could very well be their death warrants.

"Shit. I don't know what to think about this," he muttered, taking off his cap and running a nervous hand through his hair. "I mean, talk about ballsy, Shepard. Isn't it enough that you have the Reapers and Cerberus gunning for you?"

Shepard let his rhetorical question slide. The others were still mulling over her plan in their mind. She knew how they felt. Being hit by a concussion grenade would have left them less shell shocked.

Before her earlier chat with Jacob, she had spent nearly an hour in the Observation Deck, forming the pieces of her plan. It was only after their impromptu drinking session that all the pieces had fallen in place and she knew what she had to do…what she must do. Her hand clenched slightly on the desk.

She could see Garrus assess all the possibilities. The turian sat on the right of her. His eyes shifted as if he was searching in his mind for the best vantage point. He blinked slowly. He looked like he had a mark in his sights. A small smirk bloomed on his face. He held her gaze and gave a small nod. Shepard knew that without saying anything that the turian was with her.

"Are you really okay with that, Shepard?" Tali asked her friend, her concern naked in her voice. She was seated to Shepard's left. "The Alliance is your life."

Shepard had spent the last hour saying goodbye to the Alliance. Methodically, she had burnt all the emotional attachments until only ashes remained. Shepard the Alliance soldier had died two years ago. She finally had accepted it and come to terms with all that it meant.

"My mission is my life," Shepard replied firmly.

Miranda stared at the Commander. There was an ominous air of finality in her tone yet she seemed at peace. The earlier storm in her eyes was gone as if it had never been. Miranda chuckled. Seated next to Garrus, the ex-Cerberus leaned back in her chair.

"So, we're going to throw away all allegiances, huh?" Miranda mused. "A very bold action." She paused. "I love it!"

Shepard caught Miranda's gaze and held it. Those violet-blue eyes that could calmly look a charging krogan in the eye asked the ex-Cerberus operative a silent question which the Commander gave voice to.

"You might not be able to see your sister ever again, Miranda. We will be branded by traitors, hunted in all galaxies. Could you really sacrifice that?" Shepard asked quietly.

Miranda stared at the Commander, touched by her concern. Outwardly, she coolly shrugged. "Shepard, we're talking about my sister's safety and her future. To keep Oriana safe, I'm prepared to sacrifice everything. What do you say, Jacob?"

Jacob leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. Miranda, seated across from Jacob, could see that the man was thinking Shepard's plan through. Trying to find the weaknesses and fatal flaws in it that would get them all killed.

"Defecting from the Council and the Alliance, not to mention Cerberus, is like what Joker said – an extremely ballsy move. I don't like having a target painted on my back," he commented. "You're talking about an insurrection, Shepard."

He unfolded his strong arms and looked at his hands and clenched them into tight fists. His lips curled into a snarl.

"Well, playing by the Alliance's rules did not help us with Saren. And being disowned by the Council did not help us with the Collectors. I guess with the Reapers, it would be better if we go at them on our own."

Shepard had been studying Jacob with an intense look. Then she smiled; a rare chagrined smile.

"Actually, your past work with the Corsairs gave me the idea." The Commander shook her head slightly as if amused by the thought then continued on.

"I'm still going to Council to present our evidence but I'm not going to sit around and wait for the Reapers to make their first move. Not like with the Collectors. This time, we will be ready."

Dr Chakwas had been quiet from her seat next to Jacob, studying the reactions of the crew and most of all studying Shepard. Her contemplative eyes seemed intent and determined.

"Well, Commander," the doctor murmured with a wryly grin. "You are certainly making my twilight years interesting."

Shepard grinned widely at that. "Think of the stories we will share over the brandy, Doctor."

At the word 'brandy', Jacob swallowed audibly. He hurriedly took a drink of his water. Mordin, seated opposite the doctor, spared the man a curious look. He steepled his fingers in front of him as he frowned into the distance, lost in the thought. The alien then nodded his head as if coming to a conclusion but he did not speak up yet.

Suddenly, Grunt guffawed out loud, causing everyone to look at him. He pounded the conference table with a fist, causing the glass of water in front of Mordin to jump. The salarian moved the glass out of harm's way and elbowed the krogan next to him in the chest. It did not hurt the krogan but it did make him stop laughing.

"You humans think and talk too much!" the krogan growled; his voice a deep rumble in his chest. He sniffed as if tasting blood in the air and tilted his head to the side.

"Shepard's right, you need to take the battle to these Reapers." He turned to Jacob and jeered. "If your human allies are too scared to fight for you, Shepard, fear not. I will be your krantt."

The glass in front of Grunt exploded, spraying water and shards everywhere. Jacob rose from the table, shrugging off Tali's restraining hand on his shoulder.

"You got something that you want to say, krogan?" the man asked softly. His eyes were as hard as black diamonds. "Speak up, now, Grunt."

Miranda also stood, her hand sidling to her sidearm as her eyes locked on Grunt. It was clear that if their confrontation came to blows whose side that she would take.

The krogan rose up, a mass of force like tidal wave. He was grinning with excitement. The others at the table exchanged worried glances and hands twitched towards their weapons.

Shepard did not move but her voice cracked like whip between Jacob and Grunt. Although she itched to put a couple of slugs into the krogan, she knew that she had to use diplomacy to calm down both sides.

"Stand down, all three of you," she said, freezing them with the disapproval in her eyes.

The Commander turned those eyes on Grunt. "Jacob and Miranda have proven their loyalty to me countless times throughout our mission. You, krogan, who before I found you did not have a clan or kin, cannot even, begin to understand what _all my allies_ – human or alien – will be sacrificing to fight these Reapers."

Shepard leaned on the table to make it clear to Grunt's krogan brain her dominance over him. Wrex had shown her on Tuchanka how a krogan leader ruled: fear and discipline. "These people are my friends and your comrades in arms. Insult them and I will bury you. Are we clear, Grunt?"

Her answer made the krogan laugh. "You know, Shepard, you may have krogan blood in you!"

Before she could even formulate an answer, Joker cut in suddenly. His voice was venomous and low.

"I'm so glad that you automatically include me in your mad schemes, Commander. Or does my opinion not matter to you?"

Suddenly the situation in the room had gotten tenser than with Jacob and Grunt. The air felt thick and heavy, making it hard to draw breath. Shepard had wondered about Jacob and Miranda but she never thought that Joker would shift his allegiances. Not now, not after they had been through so much together. She steeled herself and ventured to look at the helmsman.

Even from where she stood, she could see that Joker was trembling slightly. His muscles in his forearms quivered. The man was stoic even in the direst of situations and almost always flippant. Now he looked like he was about to shatter apart.

"Of course your opinions matter to me, Joker. If you want off the Normandy, you're free to go. I'm not going to force you into helping me," she told him even though the words crushed her. The words 'Don't go, I need you' were on her lips but she could not say them.

The helmsman stared at her, his eyes accusing and angry. His voice took on a sarcastic and mocking bravado. His words lashed at her, hurting worse than a singularity.

"That's so easy for you to say, right? If I don't join your mad crusade to save the universe, I'm out. It's thank you, Joker, for all that you have done and now get your crippled ass off my ship."

She would not raise her voice in answer to his. If anything, she lowered it.

"You know that isn't true." She shook her head, trying to dispel the anger that ran molten in her veins. A memory surfaced unbidden of their first meeting after she joined Cerberus.

"I need you, Jeff. Without you, Normandy would not be the same." She paused for a moment; a small smile twisted her lips as other memories rose up. "Who's going to save my ass in the nick of time if it's not you?"

Joker stared at her for a long moment. The others in the room exchanged bewildered glances. "If I leave then you would have to find someone else pilot the Normandy, right Commander?"

Shepard nodded wordlessly. "Someone else would pilot the Normandy but no one else could ever replace you, Joker."

Joker sighed, all the fury seemed to vent out of him and he sat down. "No way in hell. No one is touching my baby except me," he replied with some semblance of his usual cockiness.

Shepard sat down as well, cracking her neck. She looked around the table and noticed that Mordin was being quiet, very much unlike himself. "What are your thoughts, Professor?"

The salarian seemed to compose his thoughts and then spoke. "Insurrection. Yes. A necessary action. Council unwilling to see the truth." He smiled suddenly. "Stopping the Reapers is important. Maybe I can do some good in my last years. I am with you, Commander."

Shepard nodded a flash of relief in her eyes. She would need Mordin's scientific expertise in stopping the Reaper threat.

"I cannot ask the crew to follow me blindly into this. Some of them have families and loved ones waiting for them. Some of them have a future to live for. I'll make an announcement to the crew after our meeting. Give them the chance to walk away. Those that choose to leave the Normandy, I want shuttled off to Omega Station before we make the jump through the mass relay."

The Commander turned her attention to the console in front of her and typed in a command. She talked as she worked.

"Now, let's move on to the tactics of this plan," she said. "The Reapers will be making their move from dark space. That means that they will attack the fringes of the Terminus Systems first."

A hologram of the galaxy map appeared above the conference table. After several key strokes, dozens of red circles flared up on the map in different locations.

"Colonies in those areas will be the most vulnerable," the Commander continued. "I'm not going to let colonies and established cities become casualties again. We will need to fortify them. What we need is a fleet that is able to patrol the areas and mobilize quickly when the Reapers attack."

Tali leaned forward to study the map.

"Shepard, if you are thinking of using the Flotilla to be your armada, it won't work. We have civilian ships with us and our combat ships are needed to guard the fleet. Right now, the quarians can't help you with the Reapers."

Shepard shook her head in response. "Although I will need the quarians' help when the Reapers arrive, now is not the right time. We need ships that can swiftly respond to any threat yet won't catch the Alliance's or Council's attention."

Just then Legion entered the communications room. His head flaps flared apprehensively when he saw Tali. The quarian's hand twitched towards her sidearm. She slowly lowered it to her side, though it clenched into a fist. Shepard put a soothing hand on her shoulder. She traded glances with the human and sighed.

"Ah, Legion. Good timing and thank you for coming," Shepard said to the geth who was still 'eyeing' Tali. "Legion, I need the geth's help to fight the Reapers."

The geth turned to Shepard and 'frowned'. His head cocked to the side in confusion as he processed her request.

"Insufficient data. Clarify request."

Shepard nodded and gestured for the geth to take a seat. The machine did, looking uneasy.

"What I need from your people now is their ships and space stations. I need your ships to patrol the frontiers of the Terminus Systems and guard against any Reaper invasion."

The geth's eye whirled as it focused in Shepard, probably zooming in on her face so it could analyze her facial expressions. It did not say anything.

"Shepard, the Alliance has been painting the geth as the enemy behind the Citadel attack. You can bet that they will be on high alert. Any geth ship entering Terminus space will be blown into space dust," Jacob said.

"That is why there won't be a geth ship."

Everyone – with the exception of Tali and Legion – looked like Shepard had just sprouted horns on her head. She explained herself further.

"We will camouflage the geth ships' hulls. Make them look like other ships – merchant freighters. Let them skulk around in disguise and scramble their IFF to give false signatures."

Her crew silently absorbed that tactic. Miranda nodded her head after a moment.

"A wolf in sheep's clothing. The Alliance, the Council and the Reapers might not be able to tell the difference until it is too late."

"Even if they looked out of their windows, they would see a merchant vessel," Joker added. His eyes slid to Legion when he said that.

Shepard nodded in agreement. "Legion, I will also need to use the geth stations to retrofit the Normandy and serve as a base of operations."

Garrus tapped the table with a finger. "It makes sense. After we become outlaws, we won't be welcomed anywhere where the Alliance or Council has some control over."

Legion was quiet for many moments. No doubt conferring with all its programs within itself. What had EDI said it was like? A thousand voices speaking at once? Finally, its 'eye' flashed and the geth made eye contact with the Commander.

"Shepard-Commander, we will need to deliberate," the geth said.

"EDI."

"Opening FTL communications channel, Commander."

There was a long silence as the geth polled together their votes. Hours seemed to pass even though it had only minutes. After what seemed like an eternity, Legion spoke.

"Consensus reached. We will lend you our fleet and our stations, Shepard-Commander," Legion said.

A weight seemed lifted from her shoulders. Shepard held back a sigh of relief but could not stop the relief from etching itself on her features.

"Thank you, Legion."

Garrus leaned forward. "Not to - as you humans say - 'rain on your parade', Commander, but those geth ships would be useless against the Reapers unless they were upgraded."

Tali quickly chimed in. "Their ships would have to be upgraded like the Normandy to stand a fighting chance against the Reapers."

Shepard smiled. She knew that those two would be quick on the uptake.

"That's why I'm counting on you, Tali, Mordin and Legion to work together to improve our technology and weaponry. "

Tali stiffened in her chair. Shepard knew that the quarian was using every ounce of self-control to not turn and look at the geth. The Commander knew that asking Tali and Legion to work together would be an obstacle but it was something they had to do.

"I'm particularly interested in how to use 'dark energy' as a weapon," Shepard continued on in the same tone as if requesting a cup of coffee.

That made the quarian's head swivel round. In fact, her request caught the attention of also Miranda, Mordin, Dr Chakwas and Garrus.

Tali's eyes were wide behind the visor of her helmet.

"Commander, I hope you are not proposing what I think you are," she breathed.

"Sorry, Tali," Shepard said softly. "I am."

Jacob noticed the agitation in the other 'brainy' people in the room.

"What are you talking about, Tali?" he asked when the ominous silence deepened.

When the quarian did not answer, the man turned to the Commander. "What are you proposing, Shepard?" he demanded.

Shepard took a deep breath but Miranda answered for her.

"Planet killers."

Those words seemed to devour the light in the room.

Jacob shook his head slightly. "Planet killers? Are you insane, Commander? "

"Jacob, Cerberus brought Shepard back exactly for this. To make the hard decisions and lead us against the Reapers," Miranda interjected. "You know that. Trust her."

Jacob did not argue but he did glower.

"Shepard, if the Council and the Alliance got wind that you have dark energy weapons in your hands, they will sign your execution orders faster than you can blink," Joker warned softly.

"I don't like it either, people, but we need a weapon that would instill fear into the Reapers," Shepard said quietly. "The Reapers want to wipe us out. I'm not going to let them."

Garrus coughed. "Better the superior weaponry be in our hands than the Reapers. Remember Haestrom?" the turian added in his quiet, assured way.

The turian then shrugged nonchalantly. "Even so, the geth fleet make be overwhelmed by the Reapers marauders before we can get the dark energy technology into the field. You would need more ships, Commander."

That moved them on to the next phase of her plan.

"The Council and the Alliance have been manipulating the media, accusing the geth for the Citadel Siege," Shepard said. "We need to get the word out about the Reapers and that means agents on the ground, in every major city, in every inhabitable planet."

Miranda frowned when Shepard had mentioned media and when she finished the woman's frown deepened. "You mean a 'freedom resistance'?"

Shepard scrubbed a hand tiredly through her hair. "I mean whispers of the truth, Miranda. Whispers that the Council and Alliance won't be able to silence. Whispers that people won't be able to ignore."

"That…could…work," Jacob concurred begrudgingly. "You have someone in mind?"

"I do," the Commander said with a sad smile. "I've got a few people in fact."

Shepard took a deep breath and stood. It was done. She made sure to make eye contact with each of them and to keep her face free of emotion. She did not want to sway their decision in any way.

"So, that's the plan, people. Once we do this, there will be no turning back. This is your final chance to step away."

Everyone exchanged glances and then looked at her. No one walked away.


	8. Chapter 8

**DRIFTING**

_Author's note: I tried to remember all the riveting speeches I have heard before…from movies, from games, from books and then I tried to create a speech that would make your heart swell with emotion. I'm not sure if I achieved that but I hope the meaning of the message comes out clear._

**Chapter 8: JOKER and THE NORMANDY**

Even after the meeting was over, there were still details of the campaign to hash out. Those not pertinent to the different discussions going on left early. Joker caught Shepard's eye before he left the room. She turned her attention from Miranda to look at the helmsman.

Without saying a word, the man gave her a small smile and nodded once. Shepard nodded in return. The helmsman could feel the Commander's eyes follow him from the room. He knew that Shepard would want a word with him to get to the root of his outburst but not now. Now, he needed some quiet time away from all the questions that bubbled up inside of him.

As Joker made his way to the cockpit, he drew eyes wherever he went. He kept his features unruffled from the crew's prying looks. The purpose and details of their meeting was NTKB – need to know basis. Shepard was a good commander, she would let her people know and make their choice.

He eased himself wearily into the chair. The helmsman cast a curious look at the blue globe hologram situated next to the pilot console. It had remained oddly quiet during their meeting.

"What do you think, EDI?" he asked the AI. "Is Shepard marching us to our graves?"

A wave of light oscillated across the globe's surface. "Commander Shepard has proven capable in surviving suicidal situations. Probabilities are high that she will continue with this success rate."

Joker laughed softly. How could you argue with a woman when she sounded so scientific and serious? Then it hit him. He had thought of EDI as a woman. Careful, Joker, he told himself.

The helmsman heard footsteps approach from behind him and he looked up to see Shepard coming his way.

"Hey Commander," Joker quipped. "Forgive me if I don't get up."

Shepard smacked the back of his chair playfully with the palm of her hand. "Well, don't get up on my account," she murmured dryly.

He grinned mischievously like a school boy with a frog and she returned his grin easily.

"So, outlaws, huh?" he ribbed as he folded his arms.

Shepard shrugged lazily with a smart aleck air. "I don't know. I think the Normandy would look damn good with a skull and cross bones on it," she drawled lazily. "Admit it, Joker, you always wanted to paint them on the Normandy since you joined Cerberus."

Joker laughed in reply. "The thought has crossed my mind, that's true."

Shepard merely smiled. A flurry of emotions flashed across her face, leaving behind a look of worry.

"So, we're good?" she asked after a minute of quiet. Her voice was soft and strained.

Joker pretended to think about it. It seemed that he took too long as Shepard smacked his chair again, hard enough to cause him to grunt. He nodded then and she skewered him with an exasperated look.

"Speech time?" he asked with a smirk. There could only be one reason that she had come to the cockpit for.

Shepard nodded, lips curling in a slight smile. "Speech time," she agreed.

Joker swiveled round and patched her through the com. "Attention all hands, Commander Shepard has the com." The helmsman nodded encouragingly at Shepard. "Anytime you're ready, Commander."

Shepard gathered her thoughts then took a deep breath. She always got the shakes before a speech. Joker could probably feel her trembling slightly next to him.

"Yesterday, we stood against the darkness. We stopped the Collectors. Some would call what we did impossible. But I never lost faith in your abilities. I never lost faith in you. I am proud of the supreme courage you all have shown in our journey here.

The shaking slowly stopped and Shepard could breathe easier again. She felt calm like an arrow nock and ready to be let loose.

"But there is still an invisible ancient enemy out there. They were called the Reapers by the Protheans. The geth call them the Old Machines. They probably have hundreds of other names in hundreds of lost languages. But all of them mean the same thing: Armageddon.

She knew that all across the Normandy that the crew was paying close attention to her words. She could almost feel them listening, waiting.

"I will not lie to you. If you join me again, we will fight alone. The Alliance, the Council and even Cerberus will most likely hunt us down. They would rather deny the existence of the Reapers than face the cold harsh truth: War is coming."

Shepard was not sure what the crew was feeling as they listened to her. She had painted a scenario, as dark as she dared, and now she had to give them a glimmer of hope.

"The Normandy is all that stands between the Reapers and complete annihilation. We are the front line, people, and we will not break or retreat."

The Commander could feel Joker's eyes on her. Even without looking at him, she knew that there was trust in those eyes. Trust in her, trust in the Normandy.

"I know that some of you are tired of the death and destruction. We have all lost loved ones. And it is for them that I ask you, for this one last time: stand and fight with me."

Kelly had often said that she trusted Shepard with her life. The Normandy crew had trusted their lives to her as well during the Collectors campaign. Would they trust her to lead them again?

"When the Reaper armada comes, they will find us waiting for them. We will teach them the true meaning of fear and what Hell really is. And when the day is done, what remains of the Reapers will wish that they had never left dark space."

Shepard was sure that Mordin would be labeling that last part as military chest thumping. She could almost see the salarian and his mocking smile. She shook her head, dispelling those thoughts.

"The cycle of destruction has been going on for countless millennia. And now, the time has come to put an end to it once and for all."

The Commander thought about all those aboard the Normandy. She thought about the brave men and women who were willing to sacrifice their lives to stop the Collectors. She thought about their families. She thought about how many widows and orphans would be born from the upcoming conflict.

"I am not forcing you to join this mission. You're all free to go. For those who choose to go back to your loved ones, remember this. The Normandy will not fail. We will not fail."


	9. Chapter 9

**DRIFTING**

**Chapter 9: THE NORMANDY**

Change came like a storm, sweeping through the Normandy corridors, irrevocably altering the very foundations of its character and soul. It was the first of the many storms to come.

The shuttle bay was in chaos. An orchestrated chaos and its two maestro conductors were Kelly and Miranda. The two worked surprisingly well as a team, almost seemingly to read each other's thoughts as they coordinated the exodus from the Normandy with graceful efficiency. It was almost like watching a ballet.

An air of electrifying excitement underscored the increasing din in the bay. Crates, containing crew belongings, were being loaded onto the shuttle. Farewells were exchanged, orders were issued, all shouted to be heard above the babble of voices. It was a mad flurry of activity as crew ran to carry out duties. Those with nothing to do milled restlessly about or simply chatted amicably as they waited.

The bay was filled with people, something which it had not been since the day it launched. All of the Normandy crew had gathered together – except the two security personnel standing guard over Zaeed's quarters – to see their departing comrades off. Even the aliens were there. The only person not present was the Normandy's commander and resident geth.

Oh, the commander was present but she was hiding at the moment.

Shepard watched the chaos from the anonymity of the shadows. Melded with the darkness, so far, her presence had been unnoticed. She needed a breather from being a bastion of hope. Even if it was only for a few minutes.

It seemed that even a few minutes were too much to hope for.

Kelly noticed the commander lurking near the entrance of the shuttle bay. She caught Miranda by the elbow and pointed.

Several expletives ran through Shepard's mind. Each one was more vulgar than the last.

"Ten hut! Commander on the deck!" Kelly called out.

It was amazing how those fast crewmen who were lounging against crates or standing at ease leapt into motion. The crew shuffled about and filed into two lines facing each other. Standing at the end of each line were the aliens, Miranda, Jacob, Joker and Dr Chakwas.

As if responding to an invisible cue, they saluted as one.

It was the first time the Normandy SR-2 crew had done that. As the Collector Campaign had been a civilian operated mission, there was no military protocol on the ship. None of the crew was required to salute her and now, they did this. Miranda must have cajoled into them.

Shepard inclined her head briefly. "Stand, at ease, people."

And stand at ease, they did. They relaxed visibly and one by one, they started clapping, a growing tsunami of sound.

"Speech!" Joker shouted out.

Others took up the plea, chanting it over and over. Shepard gave Joker a flat look which he shrugged off with a grin. What was the helmsman thinking? That she was some kind of Napoleonic orator, able to pull one out of her ass on demand?

She had to bellow over the clamor. "I think," she began and the crewmen fell into a respectful silence. "I think that I, for one, have had enough of speeches today. Instead, let me just say… thank you. All of you," she continued in a normal speaking voice.

But that in itself was not enough. Her crew deserved more.

She shook Matthews' hand.

The man looked nervous as he hurriedly pulled away from her grip. "Mister Matthews, I'm going to miss those interesting snatches of conversation I overhear on the bridge." The Commander smiled brazenly and raised an amused eyebrow. "Say hello to Sha'ira for me."

The man turned a remarkable shade of deep crimson. "Y-y-yes, ma'am." He flushed an even darker red when yowls of laughter erupted from his shipmates.

Shepard moved down the line, saying a few words of encouragement to those who were staying on and reminiscing with those who were leaving. Crewman Hawthorne, Goldstein, Donnelly, Daniels and Kelly were the ones who had elected to stay. Hadley, Rolston and Patel were the other human crewmen who were leaving the madness behind.

When she reached the aliens and the top ranking humans on the Normandy, the crew dispersed and continued their preparations for departure. Dr Chakwas excused herself and went to talk to Kelly. Shepard and her group moved off to the side for an impromptu powwow.

Shepard leaned against a crate. "Talk to me, people, where are we at?"

Tali consulted her Omni-Tool. Data danced across the flaring orange halo around her wrist. She typed in a few commands, summoning up information. "Well, I consulted with Mordin and Legion about using geth and Collector technology on building those new battle droids you wanted."

"I've seen the costing estimates for the resources. Let's just say, Shepard, that they will make your heart stop," Miranda interjected. She accessed her Omni-Tool and showed the Commander the costing. Shepard let out a low whistle.

Garrus peered over Miranda's shoulder and blinked. For any other person, that would have been a shout of exclamation. "You're going to have to start robbing Volus banks to get those kind of credits, Shepard."

Shepard rubbed her jaw thoughtfully. "I don't need them to be smart like the geth. Just smart enough to know where to point and shoot," she said. "I need trustworthy combatants that I won't have to worry about shooting me in the back."

"Was that a snide comment about us?" Garrus asked in a stage whisper to Tali.

The quarian however merely shrugged in reply. Shepard was sure that she was grinning behind that mask. Whatever she felt, her mind was all business. "Even if we dumb down their processors, you're only going to shave off a sliver of that cost.

Jacob had been listening closely to the discussion. He added in his two cents. "If we're backed into a corner, we might need brains as well as brawn."

"Alright, alright, I get it," Shepard growled, holding up her hands in defeat. "You both hammered home the point quite enough, thank you. Make those toasters smart. I'll figure out some way to get the money."

Miranda was transferring Tali's data to her own Omni-Tool. "How soon can you manufacture the droids?"

"After you procure resources for fabrication, in a week we should have five droids."

Shepard shrugged. "Guess that would have to do. Moving on. What about the shields?"

"Shields are automatically activated at hatches and the airlock during hull breaches. We can easily enhance shield strengths to make them virtually impregnable and program them to activate to prevent hostile forces from entering the Normandy," Tali replied. "Legion has provided the schematics," she admitted grudgingly.

Joker had been taking his ease on the other side of Shepard. "So, we have the firepower and defenses all lined up. I guess the only thing left to do is send the Collector data to the Citadel."

The Commander rubbed her upper arms as if she was suddenly cold. "Send them the data. Let's see what their reactions would be."

"Shepard, what about our unwanted cargo?" Jacob asked suddenly.

As an answer, violet fire flared in her eyes. "Ship him off to Omega. Escort him with a security detail."


	10. Chapter 10

**DRIFTING**

Author's note: Just to let you know the chapters' names will no longer be character-specific but instead thematic.

**Chapter 10: A DISH BEST SERVED COLD**

They thought that they had left him blind and helpless. How laughable. How hysterically funny. Yeah, he would be the one having a bloody good laugh over their smoldering corpses.

Lying on his makeshift bunk, Zaeed noted the position of the hidden surveillance camera in his room. It had swiveled on silent servos to train its eye on him. He would bet the Blue Suns tattoo on his neck that the AI was watching him that very moment.

The old mercenary bared his teeth at the camera and rolled over to his side. His eyes closed in the pretense of sleep.

In reality, he had turned his body so that his hands were obscured from the camera. One hand slipped under his pillow and grasped the remote he had hidden there. The device was oblong, smaller than the palm of his hand, and slimmer than a finger. By memory, he found the activation switch and thumbed it on.

There was a soft electronic hiss and then silence. Zaeed smiled and pulled the remote from his pillow, sitting up in his bunk. He did not care if the camera saw it – it did not matter now anyway, the camera was blind.

Well, blind was the wrong description. More like the camera was seeing a looping vid of Zaeed sleeping on the bed from a few hours ago he had recorded. When he had first arrived on the Normandy, the old mercenary had hacked into the AI's mainframe using Chameleon, a rare espionage trapdoor virus he had bought in the black market on Omega. The virus allowed him to tap into the surveillance controls of the ship.

The old merc tucked the remote into a vest pocket then padded over to the far corner of the room, right under the air duct. Circulating air ruffled his short grey hair as mismatched eyes turned upwards to study the vent for a few minutes. He was going over his plan carefully in his mind.

Zaeed snagged the pillow and blanket from his bed and carefully positioned them below the air duct. He folded the blanket and placed the pillow on top. Not the best solution but it will have to do. As a mercenary, you learnt to make do with limited resources and options. Those who did not, died early.

He dug out a tiny cylinder from his pants' pocket. It was another trinket he had picked up on Omega's black market.

The contraption was as long as a finger. Despite its size, it had a substantial weight. In all appearances, it looked like a pocket flashlight and it was until you twisted its end in anti-clockwise direction and switched a node on its side. All of which Zaeed did in a second.

The mercenary then aimed the incinerator bolt at one of the screws holding the vent in place. It uttered an almost inaudible drone as it discharged a pulse beam. Thin wisps of smoke wafted from the grill as the red energy bolt swathed a sizzling path through the metal around the screw. It fell atop of the pillow with a soft plop. He repeated the same process with the other three screws.

Once the last screw was burnt away, he sidestepped quickly and the grill fell onto the pillow and blanket with a muffled thud. The mercenary pocketed the incinerator bolt with a satisfied nod.

He waited for a few moments and listened carefully for any sounds of commotion outside. When it seemed that guards had not heard anything amiss, he leapt at the vent and tried to grasp the edge.

He missed.

Cursing silently, he tried again and this time, managed to pull up and through, bracing his weight against the duct walls with his forearms. He slithered upwards until the duct leveled out.

His panted breath filled the inky, shifting darkness of the air ducts. Their echoes bellowed down the vents like breathing from a mythical dragon. It was a tight fit in the air duct. The walls cocooned him, leaving him with little wiggle room. Some people would have felt claustrophobic or trapped but Zaeed had been in tougher places before.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Zaeed reviewed the blueprints of the Normandy in his head. He had memorized the schematics that detailed the warren of air ducts through starship days before the Collector Base assault in case Shepard would ever renegade on her agreement.

The mercenary had sized up the first human Spectre right the first time they met on Omega station. The chill in her eyes could freeze a krogan's blood to ice. She had not been perturbed by his shooting of the batarian. If the extranet reports were correct, she had been responsible for the massacre of batarians on Torfan. It was a damn shame that she had not lived up to her cold-blooded reputation.

Now, it would be a damn shame he had to kill her. She had stopped the Collectors after all. With that thought as company, Zaeed started to crawl in blackness towards his target.

* * *

There was a loud tink in the Armory, followed swiftly by three tinks.

Below the side wall fabrication bench, the metal grating on the air vent shuddered once, twice and burst free on Zaeed's third shoulder ram. It clattered noisily on the floor.

The mercenary stiffly wormed his way out of the air ducts and pooled on the floor, panting slightly. His muscles had begun to quiver and cramp in those small confines. A duct rat he obviously was not meant to be.

Zaeed was not worried about his entrance being detected. The surveillance camera was already blind with old vids he had shot of the Armory when it was empty weeks ago.

He had assumed that there would be nobody on the bridge and in the Armory. Not after the Commander's pretty little speech. If any of the crew had half a brain cell between them, there would be a stampede for the first shuttle out.

Well, lying there on the floor won't get Shepard dead any sooner. With a stifled groan, the mercenary lurched to his feet, cursing his aching back and shoulders. He made his way to the weapons locker and keyed it opened.

The mercenary scanned the weaponry there. "There you are my beauty," he murmured as he pulled out the assault rifle and caressed its barrel. The M-15 Vindicator Battle Rifle gleamed coldly under the room's lighting. He checked the thermal clip and grabbed eight clips from the locker.

Zaeed moved onto the armour lockers next. He found his custom-made suit in the third one and geared up. Shards of memories flashed through his mind as he dressed. Faded facets of a life he had thought he had buried.

He had been a young man when he joined the Alliance. He was a boy just out of school at 18 and hungry for glory and adventure. Two years into his tour of duty, he had lived for the heat of battle. Then, a brutal skirmish in the Terminus Systems made him see the truth – that being a dog for the Alliance meant that he did not live and die on his terms. He went AWOL and had not looked back since in the last twenty years.

As a mercenary, a man knew that he was alive when he never knew whether his next breath would be his last. It made the life he had lived before seemed like a pale shadow of existence.

Zaeed shook himself out of his reverie and finished suiting up.

He cast the empty room a final glance before leaving as he entered, clambering through the air duct. It was time to hunt.

* * *

After bustle of the shuttle bay, the quiet of her quarters felt peaceful. The last of the crew and Thane had departed which left only Jack and Samara as passengers on the ship waiting for the shuttle to return from Omega station.

Shepard pored over the classified Alliance reports about raiders and pirates in the Terminus Systems. The manifests of contraband confiscated by the Alliance patrols in particular caught her eye. It seemed that raiders and pirates were a treasure trove of expensive and illicit goods – chief among them, rare weaponry. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully a forefinger as the cogwheels in her mind began to turn. After a moment, a wintry smile curved her lips as an idea began to form.

The commander was lounging indolently on her couch, with a booted foot propped up on the edge of the table. Her jacket lay draped haphazardly on the couch's arm, tossed carelessly there by Shepard when she sat down. After a long day, she liked to strip down her combat utility uniform to the bare essentials which meant black t-back tank top and cargo trousers. Her M-3 Predator and its holster were lying on the cushion beside her.

Then as suddenly as the idea started to take shape, it was gone like the wind.

She let out a long frustrated sigh as she leaned back into the couch. Her mind felt fogged after going through all those reports and a dull ache had begun to throb behind her eyeballs. She could feel her eyes threatening to shut against her will. The commander knew that she had pushed her body to the edge of endurance. She would need food and some sleep soon.

A persistent chiming broke the silence.

Shepard's eyes snapped open as her heart rate spiked. She was half off the couch before her mind woke up. It took her a moment to realize that she had been dozing. From the stiffness in her neck, it had been for some time. Her ears tracked the chiming to her intercom.

She got up, stumbled a bit as she walked to the desk – her muscles were still half asleep. The commander took a few moments to limber up before she slapped the com channel open.

"Yes?"

It was Jacob. The commander could tell that he was worried beneath his calm tone. There was an edge to his words. "Shepard, I got some bad news."

"This day just gets better and better," she muttered tersely. She leaned on the desk and cracked her neck. Her earlier feeling of exhaustion was draining from her, replaced by surging adrenaline. "Hit me."

When the man paused before answering, Shepard knew the news was very bad. Or that Jacob thought that she would not like it one bit. He was right on both accounts. "It looks like our rat went into hiding."

Shepard closed her eyes. Only when she was sure that she was composed, she opened them and spoke. "How?" The very word sounded ancient and weary to her ears.

"Zaeed escaped through the air ducts. He had hacked into EDI's surveillance feed so she did not see anything."

Getting angry would not solve anything now, Shepard told herself as she wrestled with the urge to punch the desk. It was a hard fight but in the end, she managed to restrain herself. You should have killed him when you had the chance, an icy voice whispered from somewhere dark and cold within her. Shut the hell up, her mind replied.

Regret, the commander contemplated, also would not solve anything now. "Jacob, give the crew orders to shoot on sight. If he's too dangerous to take alive, put him down."

"Aye aye, Commander."

It had been a mistake to have underestimated that old war dog. The man had been a soldier, was a survivalist and a damn crafty son of a bitch to boot. He was a dangerous enemy to keep alive. Then another thought occurred to her. "Jacob, belay that order. Take him alive."

"Commander?" The man was confused, his tone demanded an explanation.

Shepard was in no mood to explain herself at the moment. She hardened her voice in a tone that demanded obedience. "You heard me, Mr Taylor. I want Zaeed captured alive."

This time there was no hesitation in Jacob's reply. "As you wish, Shepard." He added as an afterthought. "God, I hope you know what you're doing."

"Have the remaining crew sweep the ship in teams, Jacob. Ask Samara and Jack if they would like to secure Engineering and the bridge. That bastard might go after our mass effect core or Joker. I want Miranda and Garrus to coordinate the search. Keep me updated every fifteen minutes."

The man was already barking orders to someone beside him. When he came back on the line, he sounded even more worried than before. "Shepard, you know Zaeed would be gunning for you. I'm sending a few of security to stand guard at your quarters."

She smiled then. It was a malicious smile. "That won't be necessary, Jacob. Have all personnel concentrate on the search. I'll be fine."

The man was smart and quick on the uptake. He caught on that Shepard was leaving herself vulnerable as bait. "You're playing a dangerous game, Shepard," he cautioned the commander.

Jacob could hear the smile in her voice. "Don't worry. It's a game that I'm planning on winning, Jacob."

Without further ado, her security chief signed off. He was not happy with her decision but knew it was better not to argue with her.

Shepard thought for a moment. She could change into her armour but she did not like the thought of Zaeed dropping in on her while she was half-dressed. If I was coming to kill me, what would be my plan? she asked herself silently.

The commander got up and went to the door command console to her quarters. She keyed in the locking code and encrypted it. The door light switched from green to red as the locks activated. Her quarters were sealed shut. Now, no one would be able to get in unless she wanted them to.

EDI disapproved of this, of course. "Commander, I must caution you that sealing your quarters would make it for difficult security forces to enter if Zaeed comes after you."

"That's the whole point, EDI," the commander replied.

Shepard marked the location of the air duct in her ceiling – it was next to the desk near the bathroom – as she strode to her mini fridge next to the bed. She removed two bottles of beer and resumed her seat on the couch, depositing the beers on the floor. They clinked loudly in the silence.

She then reached over and picked up her pistol from where it lay, thumbed off the safety and placed it on her lap. She then snagged a bottle with her left hand and popped off the cap. It hissed like an angry snake. There was nothing to do then but drain her beer and wait.

* * *

A stench of burning metal and smoke preceded Zaeed's entrance into the room.

Shepard downed the last swig of her second beer and used the foot she had braced under its edge to overturn the table. It grunted as it hit its side, obscuring the clinks of the screws as they fell to the floor.

The commander knelt behind her makeshift cover. She dug out two electronic ear plugs from a pocket in her trousers and shoved them into her ears, even as she peered cautiously over the top to keep track of what was happening. Her forefinger eased over the trigger.

The grating clattered onto the deck, followed by another object being dropped from the vent. It was a small thick, black cylinder and it rolled to a stop against the desk. Shepard recognized what it was and ducked behind the table, squeezing her eyes shut.

There was a two-second delay before the flash bang went off.

White light and a thunderous boom filled the room. The electronic noise dampeners in her ears automatically filtered the decibel level to tolerable levels as Shepard took aim behind her cover.

Zaeed landed, a shadowy figure in the shifting smoke, and opened fire. A hail of bullets scoured the room.

She fired at the fish tank.

There was a boom as the glass exploded and water gushed out of the breached aquarium in torrents, sweeping across the floor and cascaded down the steps. Dying fishes and shards of glass swirled in the water.

Her strategically aimed shot succeeded in making Zaeed scatter for cover behind her desk in front of the bathroom, firing all the way. Shepard ducked behind her cover as bullets pelted holes in a swathe across her desk. The commander grunted in pain as one grazed her upper right shoulder.

"Ah, I see that you stopped by the Armory before coming to see me. I'm touched," she called out through the dissipating smoke.

The mercenary had stopped firing and most likely was reloading a new thermal clip. His voice was dark and hate incarnated. "Touched?"

Shepard took a moment to examine her stinging wound. It was a long shallow but large gash. Only a messy flesh wound. With Zaeed's next bullet, she might not be so lucky. She made her voice malicious. "I sleep better at night if the people I kill were armed."

The man chuckled. His tone turned dry. "I had to bring heavy firepower to this gunfight, Shepard. There's no such thing as a fair fight with a biotic freak like you."

"Since we did a couple of missions together, you should have realized that I don't use my biotics except in extreme combat situations. I'm more comfortable blasting things with a gun," she said as she edged to the left corner of her cover.

The only reason why the old mercenary was even talking to Shepard was so he could pinpoint her location in the room. With her last words, he knew exactly where she was. Zaeed popped around the corner of the desk to shoot when he got hit.

Hit was the wrong word. It was as if the air coalesced into a sledge hammer and was wielded by a giant. The shockwave hit the mercenary squarely in the chest, slamming him backwards.

His armour saved him from his ribs breaking. Zaeed rolled to his feet, still kneeling, as he fought to dredge some air back into his bruised lungs. Shepard, what a lying bitch! One part of him marveled at her guile, the other wanted to blow off the smirk on her face.

Shepard was indeed smirking behind her cover. However using your biotics devoured your strength. A shaky weakness had settled over her, causing her body to quiver slightly. If she had been at the edge of exhaustion before, now she hung over the precipice by her fingernails. If she had the strength, she would have stormed up those steps after she had shockwaved the mercenary and taken down Zaeed.

A voice then spoke in her ear. "Shepard?" It was Tali. "I'm outside your quarters with Garrus and am bypassing the security codes. Just hold on for a little while longer."

The commander considered her options. Despite her orders, the mercenary might get killed accidentally in the ensuing firefight. Shepard scooted sideways to the other side of the table.

"Zaeed? The cavalry's coming." She added. "When those doors open, you'll be caught between the Devil and the deep blue sea."

Zaeed responded with a hail of bullets from around the corner of the desk. The table section where she had been earlier shredded like paper. The holes in the table hissed and smoked. So, Zaeed had changed to incendiary rounds. Shepard did not want to get hit by one of those bullets.

"Don't worry about me, Shepard. You'll be cold long before then."

Shepard returned fire and emptied her clip. As she reloaded a new thermal clip, she called out from behind the cover. She edged to the middle of the table. "Perhaps. But I have no intention of dying today and I suspect, neither do you."

As the commander had figured, Zaeed fired again at the spot where she had just been. "Don't test my resolve, Shepard," he snarled.

The commander knew that Zaeed's next attack would be a raking one. If he could not pinpoint her location, it would be easier to spray the cover. With those incendiary rounds, he was bound to hit her. She had to end this. Now.

"What if I told you that I have a proposition for you that will give you all the blood, mayhem and credits you could ever desire?"

Zaeed laughed. His shoulders rocked with it. "I can have all that and more easily without your help. You can take your bloody proposition and shove it up your bloody arse." His lips curved into a sadistic smile. The doors would be breached any second now.

"Time for you to die, Shepard."

Shepard stood up from behind her cover, her pistol trained on the mercenary. "What if I tell you that I can give you Vido?" she asked quietly then.

The mercenary came out from out his cover. He advanced slowly down the slicked and wet steps. He had Shepard dead in his sights.

Zaeed came within six feet of Shepard. She could see the lust for revenge burned in those mismatched eyes. "Talk, Shepard," he growled. "I'm listening."


	11. Chapter 11

**DRIFTING**

**Chapter 11: RISING STORMS**

Garrus stormed into the room, prepared to unleash a head shot that would shatter the old mercenary's skull into hundreds of bone fragments.

Water sloshed around his boots and glass crunched with every step. His brain recorded these little details but his mind was focused on locating his target. The turian paused when his boot stepped on something soft and squishy that gave way under his weight. He looked down. It was a dead fish – its corpse turned to mashed meat and scales. Revulsion thickened in his throat.

Tali, who followed behind him, uttered an expletive at the mess of the quarters. It had been transformed into a battle zone with pockmarked surfaces and scarred furniture. Garrus looked up and saw Zaeed and Shepard in a standoff, weapons drawn. The two were so still that they seemed to be petrified in place. Garrus saw that the commander was injured. Blood dripped from a wound in her shoulder.

Then, inexplicably, the mercenary slowly lowered his rifle. "Deal," he snarled.

Zaeed's back was towards him. Garrus sighted along his barrel for a headshot. It was an easy kill.

Suddenly, Shepard slid between Garrus and Zaeed, her arms outstretched. Wait, her look told him. His grip tightened on his rifle. Like hell, he glared back at her. He knew without looking that Tali also had her weapon trained on the mercenary.

"Shepard, you have a very bad habit of getting in the way of my kill shots," the turian said then.

The commander smiled, her eyes shone with wary mirth. "Well, if you weren't such a damn good shot, Garrus, I wouldn't have to," she answered. Her arms lowered and despite her relaxed tone, her stance subtly changed. She was poised for action.

Zaeed used the turian's change in focus to take the opportunity to slowly turn and face his attacker. He smirked darkly. "Put the rifle down, turian. The commander and I have come to an arrangement."

Garrus's eyes shifted back to the mercenary. It was the eyes of an angry, vengeful dragon. "Arrangement, huh?" the turian said after a moment. His mandibles flared as his breath huffed. He spoke again, directing his words to Shepard. "You know, I could dissolve this 'arrangement' with one bullet."

Shepard advanced on her friend slowly, holstering her sidearm as she went. Making no sudden moves, she put her left hand on his barrel and gently pushed the weapon down. "Zaeed has agreed to help me in stopping the Reapers. He's on our side now."

The turian grunted sourly at that. "A line must be drawn sometime, Shepard. You taught me that."

"I know," she replied quietly. "But not today." Her voice dropped lower, for Garrus' ears only. "For now, I need that bastard."

Garrus nodded then. He reluctantly holstered his weapon and behind him, Tali slowly followed suit. The turian's sharpened senses picked up on the commander's soft sigh of relief.

Zaeed had been watching the aliens' reactions intently. If the turian or quarian had even blinked the wrong way, they would have been filled with molten metal in a heartbeat. When they put up their weapons, the mercenary smiled. The commander had those two firmly leashed.

"EDI, inform Jacob, Miranda and the rest of the crew that Zaeed has become a friendly," the commander announced to the AI. She turned to Zaeed. Her voice was cool, several degrees below subzero. "I would be remissed if something untoward happened to you aboard the Normandy, Zaeed."

The mercenary bared his teeth at her. "Thanks." He glanced at the turian and smirked. "I'll be leaving now." With that the mercenary sauntered up the steps.

He paused when he came abreast to Garrus. The two exchanged long silent looks then Zaeed reached into his pocket and pulled out several shivs. "Here, hold onto these for me," he said, pressing them into the turian's hand. Then, without another word, he left.

The AI waited for their exchange to be over before acknowledging the order. "Jacob and the others have been informed of Zaeed's changed status, Commander." EDI paused then added. "They didn't like it."

Garrus watched the mercenary leave with dark thoughtful eyes. He looked at the shivs in his hand and tossed them aside with a snort of disgust. His expression changed into one of concern. "Shepard…how's the wound?"

As if his words were a glowing brand, the pain in her shoulder flared. The Commander bit back a groan as she clamped a hand above the wound. Tali guided Shepard down the steps and had her sit on the couch while Garrus fetched the medikit from the wardrobe.

He examined the torn flesh and then pressed the bloody shreds together while the quarian fastidiously irrigated the wound with an antiseptic then applied the medigel. Shepard remained stoic throughout the treatment, clenching her jaws tightly shut and gritting her teeth so hard that they began to hurt.

Tali waited a moment for the gel to set before taking out a slender and long ultrasound tool from the medikit. After setting the frequency, she waved the 'wand' over the wound, causing the medigel to fuse with the wound and sealing it. The quarian worked quickly and precisely as if she was working against the clock.

The commander let out a long shuddering breath when the quarian was done. Her wound was numbed but her shoulder was stiff and sore. Tali took out a small bottle of antiseptic wash and dribbled it over her gloved hands. She passed the bottle to Garrus who did the same.

While Garrus cleaned his hands, the quarian asked, "So, are you going to tell us what's going on, Shepard?"

Shepard leaned back against the couch back. She had not been planning to tell them the arrangement that she had made with Zaeed. Ah hell. Those two would not stop ferreting the truth out of her until she did. In short, terse sentences, she told them.

When she was done, she could see them mulling over what she had said. From the way that Tali sat on the other end of the couch, one leg pulled up to her chest and the other left to dangle over the edge, she looked pensive and worried. However, she did not voice out her disapproval.

The surprise reaction however was Garrus. He sat on the other side of Shepard and he had merely listened to her explanation. The commander had expected him to argue. Instead, the turian surveyed the mess of her quarters. Finally, he spoke after a moment. "Damn, Rupert's going to crap a brick when he sees this," Garrus muttered.

"At least the space hamster's okay," Tali replied. She raised her hands defensively when two pairs of wry looks turned on her. "What?"

* * *

Shepard came out of the med bay looking worn and tired. Not surprising. Dr Chakwas had given her an earful or two about her recklessness when she checked the commander's wound. She found Samara waiting for her when she came out.

The asari wordlessly fell into step with her. "One hears that you and the mercenary have come to an arrangement," she said after a moment.

Shepard glanced at her sideways. The Justicar looked calm and collected but her voice had, for a brief moment, held something dark and violent. The human chuckled briefly. "You have good intel."

Samara smiled slightly. She stopped and turned to the commander. "If you could spare me a few minutes, I would like to spend some more time with you before I leave, Shepard," she requested, indicating the Observation Deck with a wave of her hand.

What the human wanted then more than anything was to stuff her belly and crawl into bed until the Reaper armada arrived. She raked a hand through her short red hair, thinking for a moment. Ah, what the hell. Samara was right; she would soon be leaving - the coming morning in fact.

Shepard followed the Justicar to the Observation Deck. However, instead of sitting on the floor, Samara led her to the couches. She reclined in one gracefully and indicated that Shepard should sit next to her. The human did gratefully after a moment – it beat sitting on a hard floor.

The asari watched the minute changes in the human's expression. She could see lines of tiredness etched slightly around the mouth and eyes. Those ever-cautious violet-blue eyes regarded her steadily. Samara noted that the commander bore a bandage around her right shoulder and her top was torn in a few places. It had been the mercenary's handiwork.

The Justicar wondered silently how the human woman would react if she told her that she had planned to execute Zaeed for his crimes and sins when they had left the Normandy and were safely away on Omega. "I am curious about your change in attitude towards Zaeed, Shepard," she said aloud instead.

Shepard blinked in slight surprise then she grinned. "There's an old Earth proverb, Samara. Maybe you have read about it in your research into our cultures. 'Better the devil you know than the devil you don't.'"

"I have not heard of it. It's a curious expression. Please do go on," the asari said. She respectfully inclined her head.

The commander nodded after a moment. She leaned back against the couch and rested her arms on its top. "It refers to when it is better to deal with someone you know, even if they are not ideal than to deal with an unknown person which might lead to unpleasant and sometimes dangerous consequences."

Shepard rubbed the back of her neck for a moment. The muscles had knotted in it painfully. "It occurred to me suddenly that Cerberus hired Zaeed once. They or one of my other enemies might have wanted to hire him again – but this time, to capture or kill me." She managed to tease out one knot.

Samara considered that. She nodded slowly after a moment. "But how did you get him to agree to work with you? He wanted to kill you earlier," she said. Her eyes widened in realization. She turned to the human with a rare look of respect. "You offered him something he desired and you collared him."

The human chuckled. "In my whole life, I never was accused of being a philanthropist," she said. Her eyes chilled. "Now for the time being, I don't have to worry about being in Zaeed's crosshairs."

"You are quite a remarkable person for one so young, Shepard," the asari said. Looking at the human, she thought that Shepard was indeed like her daughter in some ways. If the crew believed that the commander had signed a devil's pact with Zaeed, they were horribly mistaken. The devil in the pact was Shepard.

* * *

Rupert had done an excellent job of cleaning up the Captain's Quarters. Save for the dark and empty aquarium, scarred walls and missing table, you could not tell that there had been a vicious firefight only a few hours earlier.

Shepard plodded to her bed and fell face-first into the firm mattress. The commander turned her face to side a long moment later, overcome by the compulsion to breathe. Sweet air flooded her lungs.

The talk with Samara had gone on longer than she had anticipated. It seemed that the asari wanted to share memories of her daughters, particularly Morinth. Shepard had no childhood to speak of, so she reminisced about Basic and her first experiences in space.

Her eyes were beginning to drift close when the com chimed for her attention. Shepard cursed and rolled over. A part of her wanted to ignore, the military part of her told her to get off her butt and see what it was.

"Commander, you have one new message on your terminal," Kelly said over the intercom. Shepard opened her bleary eyes and rubbed them. What was that woman doing still up?

She thanked the yeoman and managed to pull herself to her leaden feet. The distance to the desk seemed longer than she remembered. A press of button on the terminal unfolded the message screen. It took a few seconds for her security software to decrypt the message.

Shepard scanned the email. She did not need to scroll down – the message was short and straight to the point.

It read:

Commander Shepard,

The Council has received and deliberated on your report. Your presence is hereby requested on the Citadel. We have urgent matters that we wish to discuss. Please proceed with all due haste.

Sincerely,

Councillor Tevos

Shepard sighed. There was nothing incriminating on the document should it fall into the wrong hands. Although she was dead certain that Cerberus had already seen it and could put two and two together. It meant that they knew she would be heading to the Citadel.

She rubbed her eyes again as the screen in front of her seemed to waver. The commander thought for a moment then pressed the com link.

"Hey Joker, are you still up?" Shepard asked.

The helmsman grunted. "If I say 'yes', will you come up to the cockpit and read me a bedtime story?" Joker teased. Despite his light tone, his voice was heavy with weariness.

Shepard smiled though she wanted not to. Damn that man's infernal charm. "Only if you've been a good boy today, Joker." It took an effort but she put the smile into her voice. "And if you've been a really good boy, I might come up and shoot the monsters under your chair too."

Joker was silent for a moment. "Shepard, I worry about your future kids," the helmsman said after a while.

"The Council summons," the commander replied. "After the shuttle returns from taking Zaeed, Jacob, Samara and Jack to Omega tomorrow morning, we're moving out."

In his cockpit, the helmsman was grinning. Finally, some action! He had been bored with their drifting in space. "Aye aye, Commander. Are we heading straight for the Citadel?"

"Nope, we have a few detours to make along the way. I'll explain it to you in the morning," Shepard said.


	12. Chapter 12

**DRIFTING**

**Chapter 12: DARK ALLIANCES**

Clearance to dock seemed to be taking forever. Shepard drummed her fingers on the top of Joker's seat, no doubt annoying the helmsman to no end.

It took the pilot a moment to realise that Shepard was tapping the tune of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. No human could mistake that four-note motif; it had been embedded into humanity's arts and music culture for centuries. Over and over, the woman drummed the tune. It suddenly struck Joker then that the Commander must be tense about the upcoming meeting with Udina and the Council.

The pilot could never understand how Shepard kept her cool when the Council constantly berated her over how she handled her missions while a Spectre. After every meeting, she went to the cargo bay and set up the VI program to simulate hologram attack drones for some shooting practice. When he had asked what she was shooting at, she said it was the councillors. Better that than the real thing, he had replied. To that, she did not reply but had a strange look in her eyes.

He shifted uneasily in his seat, adjusted his cap and slunk in the chair further. If her drumming annoyed him, he got back at her with his fidgeting. He could tell it irritated her. The hand that she rested on the console clenched into a fist as he gyrated in his chair. If the Citadel Traffic Tower did not give them clearance soon, they might drive each other crazy until one of them snapped and try to kill the other.

"I have a bad feeling about this," she muttered testily. She could not shake the cold feeling that took root in her gut.

Joker frowned at the HUD as if that could summon a docking clearance faster. "You and me both, Commander," he concurred with a sullen nod. "You would think that the Council would welcome with open arms a dead Spectre who eliminated the Collector threat."

Shepard did not reply. Instead she fell into a brooding silence, interrupted intermittently by her rhythmic tapping.

Da-da-da-dum. Da-da-da-dum. Da-da-da-dum. Da-da-da-dum.

After an eternity, the clearance order came in and the Normandy received its docking bay.

"Bloody finally," she growled and stopped drumming. Maybe her fingers were tired out.

Joker shot Shepard a glance that said: take a chill pill, Commander. She started to scowl back at him then visibly took a tight rein on her temper. He knew that Shepard was not mad at him, only those fools in the Council.

"Roger that," Joker acknowledged the traffic controller's instructions and then asked cheerfully, "Hey Citadel, what was the hold up?"

The traffic control tower's com hissed and gurgled. The man, a turian by the sound of his voice, came on the com. "A newly commissioned Alliance pilot forgot to disengage the docking clamps and damaged them. Repairs took longer than anticipated."

Joker rolled his eyes in disbelief. Shepard smirked. The helmsman was relieved to see her good humour returning. When the Commander was in a bad mood, things had a tendency to blow up and the body count mounted.

"Fricking new guys," Joker swore. "Can't even trust them to tie their shoelaces properly."

The turian laughed. It hooked Joker's ear. The laugh sounded forced. Maybe small talk wasn't the traffic controller's forte. "Yeah. Good thing the dumbass did not accidentally initiate the FTL drives in dock." He paused. "It's good to have you back, Normandy," he said softly after a moment.

Joker leaned back into his chair and smiled. It crept into his voice. "It's good to be back, Citadel." He chuckled low. "Oh, you wouldn't believe what we have been up."

Shepard left the helmsman to his banter with traffic control. She knew that Joker would not be sharing any classified information. The Commander sometimes pitied the pilot being confined to the cockpit. It must get lonely especially during the graveyard shift. She suspected that was why Joker befriended EDI. Despite Joker's hard candy shell exterior, he was pure dark chocolate on the inside. Bitter at first taste but with a slight underlying sweetness.

The thought brought another smile to her face as she entered the armory and suited up. It was her golden rule that she never went anywhere without her weapons and armour. Even growing up on Earth, she had always carried a sidearm when she was old enough to hold and fire one.

When Samara had asked her about her life before the Alliance, Shepard had deliberately been vague on the details. The asari had not inquired further and the commander had not divulged for good reason. If Jack thought her history was checkered, it was nothing compared to Shepard's past.

Times were tough back then.

As a young child, she and several kids were illegally sold by the orphanage they were staying in to a criminal organisation. They were raised to be the next generation of grunts and were taught by the soldiers and lieutenants in various weapon uses, chiefly how to use a knife and a gun. She had been a transporter, enforcer, hitman and finally a top lieutenant with her own motley crew.

That all changed when she was seventeen.

"Commander."

Her bout of reminiscing was interrupted by EDI.

The AI chimed to get her attention and she gave EDI permission to speak. "Commander, I scanned the traffic incident reports from the Control Tower. There is no mention about an Alliance vessel damaging the docking clamps."

Her stomach twisted at the implications of that statement. It made her blood run cold. The Commander slowly holstered her hand cannon. The whole thing reeked of Udina. She could smell his insidious politicking bullshit on it.

Shepard took out her shotgun and grenade launcher. Better to pack too much heat than be stuck in a fire fight with the weakest gun. "Udina easily could have pulled some strings and buried the incident," she speculated out loud. "Erase the vids and records. After all, it wouldn't look good on the news if the Alliance fleet which helps protects the Citadel is made up of bumbling idiots."

EDI did not reply to that but her silence expressed her doubt more than words could have said. She had done her duty and informed the Commander of her suspicions; it was up to Shepard how she acted on the intel.

Despite what she had said, Shepard could not shake her gut feeling that something was wrong. Her life on Earth and the Alliance had taught her that it was better to be paranoid than dead.

Shepard exited the armory, pulling on a gauntlet, to find Garrus waiting for her by the lift. He was slouched against the wall, arms folded. He could have been idly killing time if not for the fact that he was also suited up and armed to the teeth. So, the turian wanted to come out and play?

The turian kept his armour and weapons in a locker near the main battery. Garrus must have flown into his gear the minute that Joker announced that they would be dropping out of FTL. That was no surprise though; it had been a boring 10-day journey to the Citadel with numerous stops at uninhabited planets to mine resources.

Garrus eyed her armaments with concealed concern. She looked like she was carrying enough firepower to subdue an army. What was that old human vid he had watched where the protagonist was a one-man army? Oh, right. Rambo.

If Shepard and Rambo were to go head-to-head with each other, Garrus fantasized that the Commander would have probably uttered in a dead-tired voice, "I don't have time for this" and blown off Rambo's head in an eye-blink. The thought brought a smirk to his lips.

"Hiya, Shepard, need some company?" he asked lazily.

The Commander weighed her decision before she answered. The fact that she took a moment to think caused Garrus's concern to spike. "Don't you have better things to do with your time than watch me yell at the Council?" Her voice was sunshine and he greedily devoured the warmth in it.

In a way, the turian regarded Shepard as a black hole. As an emphatic leader who actually cared about her subordinates, the human had the ability to seemingly suck in your remorse, sadness, pain and regret and put in a dark place within herself. That soft nature of hers contrasted with the hardboiled soldier who was comfortable pushing uncooperative mercenaries out of skyscrapers.

To Shepard's eyes, Garrus merely smiled in reply. "Seeing you put those spineless politicians in their place with a glare? It's more fun than calibrations."

A miasma of dread settled over the commander. It burrowed and wormed its way through her sense of caution. Better to be paranoid than dead, right? But, she argued silently, it was the Citadel. Even if the Council had not liked her methods, they had reinstated her Spectre status as a sign of good faith.

She thought about the docking situation. Then she thought about it some more. Finally, she shrugged. She would not let fear rule her.

"Nah, I'm good."

"You're sure?"

"Hmm... Yep."

"It's not like you to leave without backup," the turian admonished quietly.

Shepard pulled on her other gauntlet. A cold finger ran up and down her spine. She shook her head resolutely, resisting the urge to shudder. "Can't say why, Garrus, but I don't feel like I should bring anyone along this time," she said. "My gut is telling me to go alone."

Garrus looked like he was about to argue some more but held his tongue. His mandibles flared in agitation a few times. That would be the human equivalent of clenching a jaw hard enough for a vein to pop. Finally, he relented but he did not look at all happy.

"Alright. It's your call but just be careful."

She nodded a curt farewell and walked across the bridge to the airlock. The turian's thoughtful gaze shadowed her all the way.

One of the key differences between being on a starship and a space station was the noise and smells. On a starship, filters purified the air, scrubbing it to a sterile cleanliness. It was also quiet on a starship except for the soft hum of the ship's engines.

But on a space station, noise and smells closed in on you like a wave and buffeted you from all sides. It reminded her of Earth. Although calling the Citadel a space station was akin to calling a lion a kitten.

The number of visitors to the Citadel seemed to have multiplied tenfold since her last visit to the station. Shepard thought that she had come during peak season but that was wrong. It was always 'peak' season at the Citadel.

Scores of families, merchants, business executives, mercs and travellers spanning the gamut of known sentient races crowded the various security checkpoints. Harried clearance officials had formed the queues into a zigzag pattern to accommodate the throngs of people.

The sheer mass of visitors meant screening proceeded at a glacial pace. Time crawled by and when people had to wait, they got impatient. And when they got impatient, tempers began to flare. Mob mentality would turn that small flame into a conflagration.

A stylishly dressed asari began to argue loudly with a clearance official for asking her to stand still for a scan. Even from where the commander was standing, near to the shuttle cab stand, she could hear the woman very clearly.

"Don't you know who I am? I-am-an-inter galactic-celebrity!" the asari screamed shrilly. "If you don't call your supervisor now, human, I'll have your job!"

The clearance official had a practiced patient smile painted on his face. He maintained that smile even as he slowly wiped the asari's spittle from his cheek with a folded handkerchief. Shepard did not need to see his eyes to know that they were saying to the asari that he would enjoy having some time alone with her and a rubber hose.

Incensed by the official's perfunctory politeness, she thumped the top of the counter as she continued her tirade for melodramatic effect. It worked. Her aggression was contagious and murmurs of dissent rumbled among those waiting in queue.

Perhaps that was the reason for the heavier security, the commander thought as she spotted more than the usual number of C-Sec officers in the arrival and departure hall of the station. Her military training made her automatically mentally note their number and mark their positions. She also habitually marked the exit points in the area. You never could know when all Hell would break loose and you needed to haul ass fast. Liara had been amused that Shepard had done this even on their one and only restaurant dinner date.

The reason why the commander had not proceeded straight to the Presidium was that she was now taking the temperature of the security clearance, trying to get a better sense of the situation aboard the Citadel. The docking situation earlier still troubled her mind. Even with the heightened security, the situation still seemed normal. Then why was the nape of her neck prickling like mad?

Her armour and weaponry drew a mixture of curious and nervous glances from passers-by. That in itself was not strange on the Citadel nowadays. No one went armed on the station unless they worked for C-Sec or were Spectres.

Unfortunately, she had caught the eye of a bored salarian boy waiting in line. He excitedly pointed at her and was hurriedly shushed by his mortified father. The boy was undeterred and continued to enthusiastically point, tugging at his father's arm.

The commotion drew unwanted attention to the human Spectre. Great, just what Shepard needed - people noticing her. Travellers in queue turned to look at what the youth was pointing at. When they saw a heavily armed human woman, they stared. Many aliens still feared humanity for their aggressive advancement on the galactic stage. The commander was sure that she, at that moment, was the boogeyman in flesh to them.

However, there was one good outcome of the boy's finger pointing. People waiting to be screened were able to focus their interest on a brand new spectacle and the crowd's angry rumblings had subsided. The asari diva had lost her audience and she knew it. A childish petulant look soured her otherwise finely sculpted features.

Now, all Shepard had to do was turn their attention off her. Their stares were starting to make her feel like the star freak in a circus.

As a Marine, the commander was an expert at intimidation. Her harsh looks were infamous for their ability to cow the most obstinate and arrogant subordinate. She trained such a look at the boy.

Shepard held the boy's terrified eyes and very slowly and deliberately shaped her hand into a gun and pointed the 'barrel' at him. She fired off an imaginary shot. The boy yelped and ducked to hide behind his father's leg. When he peeked around his father's trousers, the human Spectre raised her middle and index fingers to her eyes and then pointed her index finger at the boy. Even if he had never seen the human "I'm-watching-you" gesture, he knew what it meant. Fear was one emotion that translated surprising well across galactic cultures. If the boy was pale before now he would make an albino seem tanned.

"Yoohoo! Jane! It's been too long!"

A tall and willowy blonde broke through the throngs of people and approached her. She was a handsome woman, regal and graceful. Her austere red and black gown swept the floor as she strode quickly towards the commander. Shepard had not expected to see her on the Citadel again.

Helena Blake embraced the Commander in a warm and friendly hug. She whispered into Shepard's ear. "You're in terrible danger, Commander," she said. "Spectres are watching you as we speak and C-Sec is closing in."

The crime boss disengaged the embrace but still held onto the younger woman's arms. To anyone looking at them, they would seem like dear friends reunited. "There's not much time. Quickly ask your questions," she said urgently.

Shepard surreptitiously scanned the crowd, keeping an eye out for C-Sec. "The Normandy?"

"As soon as you stepped off the ship, communications were jammed and docking clamps locked. C-Sec techs are now most likely trying to breach your firewalls." Helena too was keeping a watchful eye out for C-Sec.

"Anderson?"

Her eyes flickered towards the Commander. "He went missing five days ago."

Shepard frowned. "Dead?"

"Our eyes and ears are uncertain. We suspect not. Anderson's a public figure and his death would prompt an investigation," she answered. Her eyes returned to their surveillance.

"Who's behind this?"

A slight bitterness tinged the woman's tone. "You know the answer to that, Commander."

Shepard thought. Then the revelation came to her. "Cerberus."

The crime boss turned her full attention to the human Spectre. Her eyes were grave. "I have to go now. I can't risk being apprehended but a mutual friend of ours asked me to give you a message." She paused then continued. "It is: stay strong and trust me."

Shepard knew who she meant instantly. There could only be one mutual friend powerful and well-connected enough to learn of Cerberus' activities. Helena meant her boss, Aria T'Loak, crime kingpin of Omega.

Suddenly, Helena walked away from Shepard. Her quick strides took her into the jostling crowds. Within seconds, she had disappeared from view.

Helena's departure was timely indeed. The crowds parted to reveal a small squad of C-Sec officers advancing on the Commander.

Within moments, Shepard faced off with a squad of nine C-Sec officers. They had their rifles pointed straight at her. The cops were led by Captain Bailey. The old veteran looked nervous but calm.

Shepard eyed the C-Sec officers. Her hand rested on the butt of her sidearm but she did not draw it out. She had no doubt she could drop two of them before they even fired a shot.

"Quite the welcoming party you have here, Captain," she said smoothly aloud. She let the threat enter her voice. "You better have a good explanation for this."

Her reputation evidently preceded her and Captain Bailey was no fool. His men shifted glances and their fingers twitched towards their triggers. She wondered if they would shoot her if she so much as blinked.

"We have been ordered to escort you to Ambassador Udina's office," Bailey deigned to explain after several tensed moments of silence.

Shepard smiled a disarming smile. "Citadel must have gotten quite dangerous these last several weeks for me to need an armed escort."

Captain Bailey finally drew his own weapon. "Please, Shepard, don't make this any harder than it already is," he said with an edge to his voice. His tone hardened. "Relinquish your weapons and come with us."

Shepard considered her options. The words 'Make me' were on the tip of her tongue.

They had attracted a crowd of onlookers. They gawked at the spectacle of someone about to be arrested. Shepard's eyes narrowed when she considered them. If those people got caught in the cross-fire, there would be heavy civilian casualties. Were their lives worth the price?

In her mind's eye, she could see clearly her escape route. Take out the two men in front of her, dive to the side, and use the other one as a shield. If they shot through him, she would pin a live grenade to him and push him at the others. If they noticed he was a walking bomb, they would run for cover. If not, it was their funeral.

While they were distracted, she would bolt through the crowds and hopefully lose her pursuers in the wards. All that raced through Shepard's mind in a blink of an eye.

Instead, she merely shrugged and raised her hands.

They scanned her and performed a physical search. They took all her weapons, even the hidden dagger she kept in the top of her boot, her armour and even her ear com. Once she was declared secured, she was cuffed and taken to the Presidium in a motorcade of two C-Sec cars.

It was a silent guard that walked to the Ambassador's office. A trail of curious stares followed them.

The silence gave her time to think. She cursed herself for walking blindly into this trap. It was her own hubris that led her into this situation. But the question that resounded in her mind was: what happened to Anderson?


	13. Chapter 13

**Drifting**

_Author's Note: Maelstrom is being put on hold until Drifting is completed. Some aspects of the story I had thought about earlier have changed over the course of writing Drifting. _

**Chapter 13: FALLEN**

It was nearing twilight. The sky above them was darkening into a molten canvas of gold and red, casting a burnished glow over the landscape.

In the shifting swarms of warm colours, the security detail escorted Shepard through the Presidium. She was heartened to see that it had not changed much since Sovereign's attack. Sure, there were repair works going on but a feeling of taut tension still vibrated in the air beneath the façade of false pleasantries.

People from all races bustled and hustled. Conversations droned around the small party as they made their way to the human embassy. Shepard was very conscious of the attention they attracted. Diplomats, aides, officials and visitors alike glanced at the C-Sec security detail as they passed.

Hushed whispers followed in their wake. Shepard heard her name mentioned more than once. Given the fact that the Alliance had used her likeness as a propaganda tool, of course there would be people who would recognize the first human Spectre. The commander wondered if those people were curious about why the famous Commander Shepard would be under guard.

Not that Shepard acted like she was a prisoner. She treated the C-Sec officers like an honour guard and walked between their phalanx formation with her head held high.

From the reception area of the Presidium, they took a right and headed for Udina's office. From an adjoining doorway, an elcor galumphed out. Shepard studied the alien for a moment, the elcor looked familiar. Then the commander recognized him. He was Calyn, the elcor ambassador.

The group had stopped and moved aside to give way to the ambassador. The elcor too had lumbered to a stop. In a ponderous motion, he swung his heavy head to gaze at the humans then he focused his attention on Shepard.

"Exclamation of surprise: Commander Shepard, I had heard that you were dead." He offered a nod of his head which the human returned. His eyes turned back to regard the security detail. "Worried: Are you in need of assistance, Commander?"

The thought of an elcor using its gargantuan strength against the C-Sec officers brought a smile to Shepard's lips. She put warmth into her words. "No, Ambassador, but thank you for your concern."

Captain Bailey stepped forward. "This is none of your concern, Ambassador. This is Council's business," he said brusquely.

The elcor seemed to think that over. Finally, he bowed his head in acquiescence. He plodded past them without another glance. Captain Bailey frowned after him with a perturbed look then shook his head slightly. He led them into Udina's office.

Udina was a worn man in his late forties with a dusky complexion. Worry, bitterness and arrogance had carved their mark into his long face, accenting the hollowness of his cheeks.

The human ambassador was at his desk, poring over a datapad. He glanced up at their entrance then returned his study to the report he was reading. He seemed to be reading several sections again and again, scrolling up and down. Shepard itched to know what he was looking at.

Finally, he put down his datapad and turned his attention to Shepard. He regarded her silently, contemptuous eyes above an aquiline nose, his lips drawn down into a perpetual dark scowl. The study stretched out for several long moments before he got up and came around the desk to stand before her.

The ambassador's dour expression deepened into disdain. "So, the hero returns," Udina finally said. He said 'hero' the same way he would have said 'traitor' or 'vermin'.

Captain Bailey and a C-Sec officer took up position behind her at either shoulder. They were ready to quell her by force if she made a move. Shepard ignored them and concentrated on the ambassador.

Shepard smiled nonchalantly at him. She would not be goaded by Udina, there were other matters more important right now. "Where is Anderson?" she asked quietly. It was her commander voice. It demanded an answer.

Udina smiled back at her. It was a smile with teeth. In answer, he merely shook his head as if he was humoring a small, misbehaving child.

"Ah, Commander," the Ambassador said. "As a Cerberus agent, you should know where he is. Or are you asking now to make it seem like you're innocent?"

The commander stared at him levelly. Her voice dripped with contempt. "You're a fool, Udina, but I did not think you would be stupid enough to believe Cerberus' lies." She took a step forward and the C-Sec officer laid a hand on her shoulder. She thought about breaking his nose then discarded it.

Instead, she went on. "I destroyed the Collector base and I am no longer working for Cerberus. It's all in the encrypted report I had sent to you and the Council."

Udina scoffed. His eyes were cruel as his tone. "We have received damning reports about you still working for Cerberus and allying yourself with the geth. Anderson was investigating these reports when he disappeared. Then you suddenly returned from the Terminus Systems. Quite a coincidence, isn't it?" he asked menacingly.

"That's all bullshit!"

Shepard shrugged off the officer's hand on her shoulder. When he tried to restrain her, she kneed him in the gut. The man crumpled with a groan. Rifles trained on her. She ignored them and turned her attention on Udina.

She hissed between her teeth. Her voice thrummed with rage. "Release me now. If you're not going to search for Anderson, I will. Every minute we waste could be his death."

For a moment, Udina said nothing. A glimmer of hope bloomed in Shepard. Had the man finally come to his senses?

"Perhaps Anderson is already dead," he replied. He waved in a dismissive gesture. "Killed by your fellow Cerberus agents," he added. "Or… perhaps you will use the opportunity to escape from justice and return to Cerberus. Either way, I can't risk releasing you."

Shepard glared at the ambassador, wondering how to pound the truth into his dense skull. Then a thought occurred to her. With Anderson gone, that meant Udina was now acting representative for humanity in the Council. Udina had what he always wanted: a Council seat. The man was now the sole voice for humanity.

It was as if the ambassador could read her thoughts. Udina's next words confirmed her suspicions. "I will not let all the hard work Anderson did on the Council come undone. He would want us to soldier on. Fight the good fight." The man paused then added. "And the first thing I will do as acting human representative on the Council is bring you to justice."

The commander's first knee-jerk reaction was to leap at the ambassador and break his neck. A rage, primal and wild, choked her. He deserved death if he was willing to let Anderson die for his political advancement. Instead, she quelled her rage. There was still the Council.

When she spoke, she was calm. "You said that you had evidence of me colluding with Cerberus and the geth. Show it to me."

The ambassador looked disappointed that Shepard had not reacted to his goading. Udina fetched the datapad from his desk. It was the one he had been studying earlier. Shepard read the reports and kept her face impassive. It was a struggle; she felt as if her heart dropped to her stomach.

Cerberus had fabricated the reports to make it look like she had taken the Collector technology from the base. The reports featured alleged communications between her and Cerberus agents talking about the potential weapon development and sourcing for materials. She scrolled down the list of planets mined and was surprised to see it was accurate.

As for the alleged geth involvement, the reports detailed her reactivating Legion and visiting the geth base – however the report left out the part where she blew the heretics to smithereens. A small part of her was relieved not to find any information about her ongoing plans with the geth.

"Hmm," was all that she said.

Udina glowered. "Is that all you have to say, Commander?" he demanded.

Shepard handed the datapad to him. Her omni-tool had also been removed by C-Sec when they took her weapons or otherwise she would have downloaded the data. "Whoever Cerberus hired to fabricate these reports is very good. It almost had me fooled and I know it's all a bunch of lies."

The ambassador sneered. "Still spinning that tale, are you? The evidence, as you have seen, is quite damning. Well, we'll let the Council decide. They wanted to give you a chance to explain your actions before they deliberated," he said as he placed the datapad back on his desk.

Udina then went to stand before the holoprojectors.

"It's about time for the meeting to start," he said to Captain Bailey. "Bring her over here."

Captain Bailey did as he was ordered. Shepard allowed herself to be led and stood calmly before the holoprojectors. Udina was an ass. All she had to do was convince the Council of her innocence and then she can go about finding Anderson. And whoever had her old friend in their clutches would learn how she had earned the nickname the Butcher of Torfan. Her hands curled into fists at the thought. She forced herself to uncurl them.

They did not have long to wait for the meeting to start.

A series of beeps sounded. Then the air shimmered in front of the holoprojectors, coalescing into the forms of the Council. The three Councillors stood before her, gazing at her with sombre expressions. Disparate though they were, they all wore the same disapproving look. Shepard met their eyes, unafraid and collected. Were they to be her judge, jury and executioner? she wondered.

The turian councillor spoke first. He wasted no time with pleasantries. "You have a lot to answer for, Commander."

Councillor Tevos, who was the de facto leader of the Council in lieu that she was asari, spared the turian on her right a veiled look of exasperation. "We have received disturbing reports that despite the destruction of the Collector base, you are still working with Cerberus."

"You should also know that you are suspected of being behind the disappearance and possible abduction of Captain Anderson," the salarian councillor added.

Udina stepped in. "I want the Council to know that you will have the Alliance's full cooperation in this investigation. We will also abide by the Council's judgement over one of our citizens." His eyes slid over for a moment to Shepard. "Justice must be done."

Councillor Tevos nodded. She turned to Shepard. "These are serious charges, Commander. What do you have to say in your defense?"

Her mind was filled with possible poignant responses but she settled on simplicity. Shepard stepped forward. "You know me. You know what I have done for the Council," she said then.

The asari smiled at that. It was a small remorseful smile. "Your heroism saved our lives." The smile faded and her eyes became flint. "Still, we cannot ignore the evidence."

"Our specialists have gone over the reports. They tell us that these reports are most assuredly genuine," the salarian councillor said then. "Taking that into account, you still have not offered any proof that you are innocent."

Shepard looked at the three councillors. She sighed. "As I have told you before, I only worked with Cerberus because the Collectors were abducting human colonies. When we went to the Collector Base, we discovered that they were using humans as materials to create a human Reaper."

"Ah yes, the 'Reapers'," the turian councillor said. An ugly sneer contorted his features. "You are still going on about that myth, Commander?"

Shepard had just about enough of the turian's condescending tone. She suspected that the turian never liked her or had much love for her species.

"Open your eyes! The Collectors were once Protheans. The Reapers enslaved them and transformed them, turning them into mindless creatures."

The councillors were unfazed by her outburst. Then again, little unfazed them. They traded glances and then the salarian councillor spoke.

"Our scientists believe that the Collectors could have been a forced evolutionary measure by the Protheans to escape some cataclysmic event and avoid extinction," he said.

The commander resisted the urge to utter the stream of profanity that coursed through her head at the salarian's reply. Instead she took a deep breath and tried another approach.

"Anderson is missing. What is the Council doing to find him?" she asked then.

The turian councillor answered her. "We have several Spectres investigating his disappearance. They will find him and those responsible for his disappearance. That, I promise you."

A weight felt like it had been lifted from her shoulders. A constriction in her chest that she had not realized she had eased suddenly. She tried to keep the relief from her face but she could see that Councillor Tevos had noted it.

"Don't try to sidestep the issue, Commander. What do you have to say in your defense regarding your Cerberus involvement?" the salarian councillor demanded. "There are also reports of your collusion with the geth! Geth who were behind the attack on the Citadel!"

Shepard lowered her head. Her lips moved, forming words but no sound came out.

"Speak up, Shepard," the turian councillor barked. "We cannot hear you."

Shepard raised her head. Her eyes were violet ice. "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?" she said softly.

The councillors traded confused glances. The salarian shook his head slightly while the turian shrugged to the asari's questioning look. Udina regarded Shepard with a sour expression, his lips puckered in disapproval. He damn well knew what she had said.

"The translator must not be working." Councillor Tevos said aloud after a moment. "Please repeat what you had said, Commander."

Shepard smiled mirthlessly. "It's Latin, Councillor, an ancient human language. It means 'Who is guarding the guardians?" She paused then added. "Who will protect us from the Council?"

Councillor Tevos regarded her with a hooded look. The asari's features seemed carved from stone. Her tone was low and challenging. "And do you believe yourself to be such a person, Shepard?" she asked softly after a moment.

"Such arrogance!" the turian councillor growled, visibly seething. "You are not fit to be called a Spectre, human! I'd always said that humanity was not ready for the responsibilities."

The salarian councillor broke in, interrupting the turian before he could begin a tirade. "Every action has a consequence, Shepard. You will answer for your actions."

"That is true, Councillor. And are you prepared for the consequences of your actions?" Shepard asked. Her voice lowered dangerously. "For your decisions? How many lives can your conscience bear when the Reapers return and every race in existence is slowly exterminated?"

He blinked his bulbous eyes in aggravation. "You are mad, Shepard," he said then. He seemed to search for more words but failed. "You still will not give up your lunacy about the Reapers?" he demanded in frustration.

Shepard looked down. She seemed to slump in defeat. Her hands curled into fists. "Well, Anderson can't say that I didn't try diplomacy first," she muttered softly to herself. Without warning, her head snapped up and the blue halo of biotics flared around her fists.

Something hard slammed between her shoulder blades, knocking her forward onto her hands and knees. Pain flared as her breath whooshed out of her. A footstep sounded in front of her. Shepard looked up. Metal cracked on flesh. A flurry of colours blizzard across her vision. She blinked it clear just in time to see a C-Sec officer pull back his rifle, about to land another blow on her with its butt. It was, she realized dazedly, the same officer that she had kneed in the gut earlier.

"Captain Bailey, stop that officer right now!"

It had been Councillor Tevos who had screamed that order. The officer lowered his rifle hesitantly.

Captain Bailey placed the muzzle of his heavy pistol against the back of Shepard's head. "Don't try anything funny, Shepard."

Her cheek throbbed where the rifle had hit. She could feel blood well up from the gash and leak downwards to her jaw. "Wouldn't dream of it, Bailey," she lied through clenched teeth.

Bailey apparently did not believe her. She wouldn't if she was in his shoes too. "Sedate her," he ordered calmly.

The officer who had hit her hurriedly obeyed. It took only a few moments for the drug to flood her bloodstream. She blinked and tried to clear her vision but it was no use. The world blurred before her eyes like she was looking through powered lenses. Her thoughts scattered like clouds torn by wind. Damn it to hell. She would not be able to focus her mind to use her biotics now.

Councillor Tevos had been watching the byplay silently. When it was evident that Shepard had been subdued, the asari nodded to her fellow councillors.

The turian councillor snarled. "Get her to her feet."

It took Bailey and the officer to haul Shepard up. She stumbled into the officer; her muscles numbed and her mind fogged.

The councillors once again exchanged glances and keyed some commands into the consoles in front of them.

As drugged as she was, Shepard knew what was coming. She had seen the same fate befallen Saren. To her surprise, she felt a stab of despair in her heart despite the fact that she knew that the Council might resort to this.

Councillor Tevos seemed to regard her with sad eyes. That sadness did not reach her voice however. "Commander Shepard, it is the decision of the Council that your status as Spectre is hereby and irrevocably revoked."

The salarian councillor went on. "By collaborating with Cerberus and the geth, you are charged with treason and will face trial on Citadel."

The turian councillor concluded. "You have dishonoured what Spectres are supposed to represent. You have tarnished the Ideal. We placed power and privilege in your hands and you have abused our trust. Your insistence on the Reaper myth being a real threat makes you a danger to yourself and a danger to the universe."

Of course, Udina had something to add. "You are a disgrace to humanity, Shepard. You have gone rogue one last time and now you must pay the price."

Councillor Tevos ended the meeting. "You were a formidable Spectre, Shepard. And, I am personally saddened to see how far you have fallen." Her voice would make Noveria seem warm. "As the first human Spectre, you have failed us and you have failed your people. You are to be remanded into C-Sec custody while awaiting trial."

With that, the holograms winked out simultaneously.

"Lock her up," Udina ordered Captain Bailey.

The captain wordlessly saluted in reply.


	14. Chapter 14

**Drifting**

**Chapter 14: SHADOW PLAY**

Time had no meaning in jail. There was no holographic sky like there was in the Presidium. She could only mark time when the guards change shifts and when her meals came or when she was hauled off for a shower. At a scheduled time during the Galactic Standard Day, there would be a brief interlude of darkness for lights out.

Lying in the darkness, Shepard thought and plotted.

It had been five days since the Council meeting. During the first few days of her imprisonment, she was so pissed off at herself for getting captured that she just wanted her sidearm back so she could shoot something. Preferably Udina in the foot. Maybe followed by a shot to the head.

Shepard wondered if the crew on the Normandy had managed to make their escape. Or were they being questioned like she was? No, she could not imagine Miranda, Garrus, Tali or Mordin let themselves be captured so easily. Most likely, the Council had them confined to the Normandy.

If Shepard had been in charge of the Normandy's lockdown, she would have separated Miranda, Garrus, Tali and Mordin. The Council was under the mistaken impression that without Shepard there to lead, that the Normandy would be rudderless. The commander would wager her apartment on Intai'sei that those four ringleaders were concocting up a rescue operation right this moment.

C-Sec had not put the screws to her yet. She was not sure if that was the Council's doing or an order from the higher ups in the Alliance. No, Udina had said at the meeting that the Alliance would not interfere with Council's judgement. It did not matter. Either way, Captain Bailey had not begun to interrogate her… yet.

The good captain came to deliver her meals himself. In the beginning, she had refused to eat as she thought that the food might have been drugged. Bailey had to eat the food to convince her and when he did not topple over or seemed befuddled, only then did she come forward and ate.

Only after did she eat her first meal did she detect a trace of a drug. It dulled her mind so that she could not use her biotics. Still, she ate everything they gave her to keep her strength up. The chow was basic with vegetables, bread and some meat on the side.

Sometimes Captain Bailey would come and talk to her through the intercom. He tried to convince her to cooperate, to tell Udina and the Council what they wanted to know.

When she still kept her silence, the man grew frustrated and finally said, "You know, you're officially dead. Technically, we don't need to treat you humanely. The dead have no rights."

To which she broke her silence once. She had been lying on the bunk, gazing at the ceiling. She turned her inspection to her nails. "The dead also tell no tales, Captain."

The man had stared at her and without a word stalked away. He could have tried to wring the answers out of her and she would do her best to resist. For how long she could not say. Everyone had their breaking point and despite what those vid flicks said, people always break. Even a tough dead Spectre, But would she have told the truth? Ah that, now that was a different matter entirely.

After the third day, the Captain stopped visiting her. A bored desk sarge brought her meals from that day on. He did not try to start up a conversation and so Shepard conversed with the shadows in her mind.

It was on the fifth day, her reckoning, that another visitor came. It was a young C-Sec rookie who seemed carved from solid ice. He was young, clean shaven with a crew cut and a cap of dark blond hair. He could not have been more than twenty.

Pale brooding green eyes stared at her. The muscle in his cheek jumped and his eye twitched. He had his hand in his pants side pocket where he fiddled with an object.

Shepard wondered if he was going to stare her to death or perhaps deliver retribution for some obscure gripe he had against Alliance traitors. She suspected the later when the rookie deactivated the barrier to her cell.

The boy stared at her for a long moment. She sat up on the bunk. If she was going to take a beating, it was going to be on her feet.

Then, his hand withdrew the object from his pants pocket and he tossed it at her. Without thinking, she caught it. It was small, light and rectangular. She opened her hand to see a packet of chewing gum. She squashed the surprise that she felt before it could show in her eyes.

The boy's jaw worked. He seemed to chew on his words before he spoke.

"They say that you're a traitor. That you faked your death and have been working with Cerberus for the last two years." His voice had the same glacial quality as his features. There was no outrage, no disbelief in it, just a calm recitation of the facts.

'Ice Man' glanced down at his feet for a moment then looked up at her. He seemed confused that she did not speak up. What was there to say? His eyes searched her face as if seeking confirmation of something. Whatever he saw in her cold demeanor embolden him to go on.

"I don't believe that. The commander who saved my brother's life on Feros is a damn hero in my books," Ice Man said softly. He paused and then added, "Enjoy the gum, Commander."

With that said, the man saluted, reactivated the barrier and walked away. Shepard watched him go and when the sound of his rapid footfalls had faded then she moved.

She lay back down on the hard bunk. She could not be sure if that had been a genuine display or a scenario concocted by Bailey to lower her guard and earn her trust. Either way, she would not react. She regarded the chewing gum in her hand for a moment.

Shepard decapitated the pack of gum, unwrapped and peeled off a stick and then stared. A thin sliver of paper stuck out from the pack. It had been dislodged from its place when she removed the stick.

She glanced at the cell door and then looked up at the blue eye of the camera. Using her hand to cover the pack, she tapped it against palm. The paper slid out with another stick of gum. Still keeping her movements hidden from view, she pinched out the ribbon of paper and unfurled it.

The ribbon of paper had a message, handwritten in English in a cursive but simple and brusque script. Scrawled across the surface were the words:

"Wait and be ready - Admiral S. H."

The commander regarded the message impassively though inside she wore a smile. To the camera, she covered her mouth as she yawned and then seemed to chew and swallow. She unwrapped the two sticks of gum and popped them into her mouth. She chewed pensively.

An explosion of double mint flavour was just what she needed to wash away the taste of paper and ink.

Shepard pillowed her head with an arm and stared at the ceiling. She bided her time and blanked her mind. The dead could afford to be patient.


	15. Chapter 15

**Drifting**

**Chapter 15: SPECTRE**

She woke up in inky darkness and just laid there. A soft hum filled the silence, echoing the slight vibration that thrummed along the bulkhead and across the frame of the bed. Slight goose bumps raised along her skin where the chilled air blanketed her exposed bare skin.

The bed was empty. That in itself was not an oddity at all given the present circumstances. You would have thought that her lover had a salarian metabolism. The woman seemed to function ably on only a mere few hours of sleep a day.

Still, she could not quell a flash of disappointment that she was alone again in bed. Her hand rested on the cold place beside her for a moment. Then, she decided to find her lover.

She changed out of her sleeping clothes and dressed in silence. She cast a final, lingering look around the empty room before heading for the door. The inlaid blue luminaire panel illuminated the SR 1 insignia on the door's surface softly. She reached out to touch the door's surface then hesitated. For a fleeting moment, she had the irrational thought that it would disappear if she touched it.

When she exited the quarters, sounds of merriment lured her towards the mess hall. A few of the crew were assembled around two people seated across each other at one of the tables. They seemed to be playing some sort of drinking game involving coins. Suddenly, hoots and jeers exploded from the group.

One of the crew heard her quiet steps and turned.

"Hey, Liara," Kaidan greeted her with a smile. He had a good smile; a kind smile. It was an odd contrast against the brooding look that often darkened his eyes.

Liara supposed that he was an attractive human. It made the asari wonder what had drawn Shepard to someone outside her own species.

The human noticed her curious glance at the game and explained the rules. Use your mind or finger to tap one or all of the coins into the goal across the table, which was formed by the fingers of another crew member. You only had three taps. If a coin flew off the table before it reached the goal then you lost and took a drink. If a coin failed to reach the goal, you took a drink. If you manage to score a goal, your opponent took a drink.

By the state of inebriation of the players, they had been playing for some time. Kaidan watched them play for a moment then looked at Liara and cocked his head at the game.

He arched an eyebrow. "Care for a round, Doctor?" Kaidan asked.

Liara responded to his light-hearted tone. Her voice changed, it became challenging and low. She did not know what possess her to speak that way.

"Why not?" she replied then added after a moment, "What's the prize?"

Kaidan grinned but his eyes chilled. It matched the malice in his voice. "What else? Shepard."

"I don't think -," she began to protest. Liara was at a loss of words - the temerity of the man surprised her.

"That's right! You don't think at all!" the human snarled, whipping out a singularity and hitting her in the face with it.

The asari stumbled and fell to her knees. Her left brow burned and she felt blood seep from the wound.

Kaidan smiled down at her. Liara had never thought that the human could look so cruel and savage.

"Where is Shepard?" he asked then.

Liara got up unsteadily to her feet. She looked the human in the eyes and felt something…dark…take over her.

"You can't have her," she growled, her eyes defiant and resolved.

Her words sounded familiar. They echoed within her soul, in the hollowed emptiness within her. Oh, right. Those were the same words she had said to the Shadow Broker's agents. She was ready to unleash a biotic field that would turn the human into mashed meat. Liara looked at the human with death in her eyes.

Suddenly, a gun barrel pressed against Kaidan's temple. Liara turned to see Shepard standing beside him.

"If I were you, tough guy, I would think very carefully on what I would do next," the woman said softly. She thumbed off the safety on her pistol without removing the weapon from Kaidan's temple. "Because it could be the very last thing you ever do."

Kaidan studied the commander out of the corner of his eye. He smirked and raised his hands slowly.

Shepard smiled. "Smart move," she said then and tipped her weapon towards the ceiling.

A moment later, Shepard turned to the asari and held out her right hand, proffering to help the asari to her feet. Liara blinked. The gun was gone from Shepard's hand. She then noticed that Kaidan and the rest of the crew were also gone.

Liara's sense of confusion lasted a moment. Then the feeling was gone. She accepted Shepard's help but instead of letting the asari go when she was on her feet, the human pulled Liara towards her.

Warm arms wrapped around her back and pulled her against the human's body. Liara returned the embrace, lowering her head to touch Shepard's cheek against her own. The human's breath tickled her neck as the human inhaled her scent before she kissed Liara lightly on her collar bone then glided upwards to her chin. She paused then stepped back from the asari, breaking their contact.

With a gentle hand, Shepard cradled Liara's cheek.

"Liara, go," her lover said softly.

The asari leaned into the commander's touch. It was exactly how she had remembered it. "Shepard," Liara murmured in protest.

The human's violet-blue eyes hardened as did her tone. "Now," she commanded.

Liara's eyes popped open. Cold inky darkness greeted her. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest as the dream replayed before her eyes. Shepard's words drummed in her mind. Of course, they would. Those were the last words Shepard had said to her before her death.

For a long time, Liara laid there in the blackness. Her only companion was the silence and a growing feeling of disquiet.


	16. Chapter 16

**Drifting**

Author's note: Was listening to Mika's 'I See You' when I wrote the first part of this chapter so it might have coloured how the scene plays out.

**Chapter 16: REMNANTS**

Liara went to Eternity for a drink and some semblance of companionship. With Nyxeris gone, her office had become a war room. She needed to connect with life and not the phantom memories in her head.

She nursed her wine in a shadowed corner of the bar. Although it was a busy night and patrons were packed shoulder-to-shoulder, there was a bubble of space around her.

Everyone who was anyone on Illium knew of her and avoided her like a plague. Those that sought Liara were often people who needed her services or wanted to destroy her. The former was business, the later was business too. Nothing must impede her hunt for the Shadow Broker!

A mug of ale joined her wine glass. The glass made a heavy thump when it rested on the counter top, breaking Liara out of her introspection. She glanced up and saw Eternity's cagey asari bartender.

"Your wine looked lonely," Matriarch Aethyta explained, sotto voce, to Liara's questioning gaze.

Liara smiled - it was a small smile but still a smile. She could not help herself. There was something about Aethyta that eased the turmoil within her. Maybe that was why Aethyta declared herself as the city's resident - highly unappreciated and underpaid - counsellor.

At the moment, the matriarch leaned on the counter top, folding her arms. The woman looked concerned as Liara seemed content to remain silent. "How come every time I see you, hon, you look like a husk with all the life sucked out of you?" She paused, seemed to think for a moment then added. "Something - or someone - on your mind?"

The younger asari thought about her answer. She had a carefully formulated reply that would not divulge any personal information then she brutally discarded it.

"Ever had a bondmate, matriarch?" Liara asked softly instead.

Her mind flashed to the hours before Ilos in Shepard's quarters. It had been the first time that she had ever joined with anyone. She had thought then that she could drown in her lover's deep ocean of fierce emotions. Affection. Desire. And even, buried underneath all those turbulent layers, love.

That night, Liara discovered that it had not been Shepard's first time with an asari. The human had surprised her with an intimate knowledge of asari physiology. Although she had felt a flash of jealousy at the revelation, in the end it did not matter. Shepard's confidence and skill in bed had etched the whole experience into an incredible memory.

Looking back then, she cursed her own naivety. She had fantasized about Shepard growing old with her.

And then Shepard had died.

The matriarch appeared to be musing on her answer. When she did speak up, her voice was heavy with regret. "I did. We didn't work out. We were like ice and fire. It was a damn shame really. We even had a child together."

"What happened to your daughter?" she felt compelled to ask.

There was a sudden fire in the asari's eyes, gone in a blink. Liara felt like she had asked an intrusive question. The matriarch looked away for a moment then shrugged in reply. "I left before she was born. Don't even know her name," the matriarch said softly. She took a gulp of her beer. "What happened to your bondmate?" she asked then.

"She died."

Matriarch Aethyta blinked. "Shit," she said then. She seemed to search for comforting words but really what could she say. 'Them the breaks, kid?'

She drained her beer and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "At least you still have your memories of your bondmate."

Liara smiled slightly at that. It was an enigmatic smile. "Yes, that is true."

The maiden seemed to want to be alone with her drink so Matriarch Aethyta left her there. Liara returned to her drink. Even after all these weeks after, she still thought about her meeting with Shepard. It haunted her dreams and hounded her waking moments.

Liara could still remember their reunion as if it was only yesterday...

...She spun and stared. Before her stood the Commander with a brazen grin.

"Shepard!" she exclaimed in delighted surprise and disbelief. She crossed over to where Shepard stood.

"Nyxeris, hold my calls," Liara absent-mindedly ordered her assistant. She did not even acknowledge Nyxeris' bow in return.

As she walked up to the human, Liara greedily drank in the sight of her. There were fresh half-healed scars on Shepard's face. What did Cerberus do to her? Liara wondered silently. Was Shepard still human? Still organic? What did I let Cerberus do to her? But she ruthlessly pushed those questions aside. She could ponder them later. Now, now was more important.

The moment she had been waiting for these last long two years had finally arrived. Shepard was alive, she kept saying over and over again in her mind. Her heart seemed about to burst from her chest, each heartbeat was painful and thunderous.

Liara opened her mouth to speak but her voice deserted her. The words dried up in her throat. She could only whisper, "I can't believe that it's really you." Shepard's lips curved in response. The human had heard her.

Her hand that took hold of Shepard's gloved one shook. Her hammering heart seemed to have crawled into her throat. She stepped closer to Shepard and reached to caress her lover's cheek. Warm soft flesh met her questing fingers. Her breath quaked in a soft sigh. It was not a phantom from her imagination.

As she was taking in the differences about Shepard, she could see the commander study her in turn. The human looked amused when she noted their new height difference. Violet-blue eyes, twinkling with contained mirth, traced Liara's figure. It made the asari conscious of the fact that she had matured - physically and spiritually - since Shepard's death.

Shepard had to tilt her head upwards to receive Liara's chaste kiss. She took Liara into her arms. The passion in which the human returned her kiss melted the asari's hesitation. It was as if the last two years never happened. Every fibre of her being remembered Shepard - how the human's lithe body melded against hers. Torrents of emotions coursed through her. Confusion. Worry. Sorrow. Desire. And burning brighter than the sun: love.

Despite the facial scars, Shepard's body was still the same. But the question was the human's soul still Shepard's?

Liara broke the kiss first. Guilt welling up within her. She averted her gaze to avoid looking at the confusion in her lover's eyes. Liara moved to her desk, avoiding looking at Garrus and the Cerberus operative who had accompanied the Commander. It was as if only the two of them existed.

Their reunion from there on soured fast. Liara could see that her business-like attitude and evasiveness rankled her lover. Shepard's voice became heated as her frustration mounted. They exchanged words. She watched Shepard take tight rein of her anger and as humans liked to say, 'take a deep breath'.

As Shepard completed her missions and finished the tasks Liara had assigned her, the human would come by the asari's office to catch up. Their small talk was strained but the emotion in her eyes had not changed a whit. Shepard looked at her with concern.

That concern only deepened when she finally confessed to the real reason she was hunting the Shadow Broker. She had expected Shepard to retaliate with anger, hatred or contempt. Instead, she merely accepted the fact that Liara had given away her life to Cerberus. The woman had still loved her after all that.

She watched her human lover lever herself to her feet. It occurred to Liara that Shepard seemed weary, not merely fatigue. Shepard did what she had to do to get the job done. She shouldered all the burden onto herself. Liara had seen the memories of Shepard's childhood from when they had joined - an orphan alone on the streets of Earth caught in a gang war. The scars from those times were old and faded.

"I'll talk to you later, Liara," Shepard said then in farewell.

Without saying another word, Shepard had said everything that needed to be said between them. Shepard would do what she needed to do and Liara would do what she must. After it was all over, maybe then could they rekindle their relationship.

That is, if they were both still alive then.

She drained her wine as if to wash away those colorless and dolorous thoughts and then sharply gestured for a refill. A young asari maiden came by and wordlessly obliged. Her eyes studied Liara then shifted to her gaze to Liara's side. A fake smile quickly painted itself on her comely face.

Liara tried not to stiffen when she felt a presence sidle up next to her. She glanced askance and recognised the batarian standing next to her. Called Anto, he was a hired gun from Aria T'Loak, Omega's de facto leader.

"Is this seat taken?" he growled.

For a moment, Liara contemplated about telling him to leave her alone but if he was here that meant Aria wanted something. If Aria owed her a favour then it would be in her advantage. She inclined her head briefly and the man plopped onto the bar stool with a stifled groan.

The young bartender took his order and returned with a mug of batarian beer. He gulped down several mouthfuls before deigning to begin their clandestine meeting. "Looks like your girl has gotten herself into a spot of trouble," he muttered into his beer.

Liara frowned. She could not even begin to winnow down which of her sources and hired personnel the batarian meant. "Which girl? I have quite a few people on my payroll," she replied, taking a sip from her wine.

Anto grinned - a mirthless grin. "The girl's not on your payroll. In fact, I wouldn't call her a girl at all. Not with the trouble she causes," he answered. "She's human and you travelled with her two years ago. Does that narrow it down for ya?"

The earlier sense of disquiet she had felt after her nightmare that morning returned. Liara kept her face impassive but she could feel her eyes tighten. "I have heard nothing about that," she said then after a moment.

A sinister laugh met her reply. The man waved a hand as if waving off flatulence odours, "The information's been buried. The Council and Alliance has seen to that," he growled.

"The Council and Alliance," Liara repeated softly to herself. Her mind churned, working out the threads of information. Her breath caught in her throat. "Shepard's been arrested for treason," she whispered.

Anto was eying her in amusement. He raised his mug as if in a toast and quaffed his beer. He signaled for a refill. "Not bad for an archaeologist," the batarian smirked. The bartender gave him another round. He chuckled deeply and drank. "Not bad at all," he repeated.

Meanwhile, Liara's thoughts were floundering. Shepard was in trouble and if it involved the Council and the Alliance, her lover was without allies. What the hell was Anderson doing? He should be shielding Shepard.

She took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts. "So, what do you need from me?" she asked quietly.

The man took another gulp of his beer. "Nothing, sweet cakes. Just stay put," he answered after he swallowed. Before Liara could rile up at his remark, the batarian went on. "Big players are on the move. A small fry like you will get squish," Anto said.

Liara's anger at being addressed as 'sweet cakes' faded away. Her mind turned the new information like a puzzle. "Big players...Cerberus?" she contemplated aloud. Her breath caught in her throat in realization. "The Shadow Broker?" she breathed.

Anto nodded after a moment. A new smirk curved his lips. "Yep. Things are in motion and everyone wants the prize: Shepard," he replied. "You're a clever girl but this is too big for you."

"I'm not abandoning Shepard!"

Her outburst caused several patrons to glance at her. Liara glared at them, warning them away. They found something else to occupy their time when they saw her eyes.

However, despite her vehemence, her words sounded hollow to her. She had stood by, after all, when Shepard left on a suicide mission to battle the Collectors. She had left her love go alone into certain death.

Except Shepard had not died. She had returned victorious. And now, she was branded as a traitor.

The batarian merely chuckled at Liara's outburst. He drank a mouthful of beer and swirled the beverage in his mouth before swallowing it. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, gorgeous. Our people are on it," he informed her.

That made Liara study the man closely. She had not liked the sound of that one bit at all. Aria would not have gotten involved unless there was something in it for her. What did that criminal want with Shepard?

"Why would Aria help Shepard?" Liara asked then. She was too tired to bother to keep the suspicion from her voice.

Not like the batarian cared in the least. The man shrugged and answered, "Aria always pay her debts."

"What debts?"

This time, Anto glared at Liara. His eyes were cold and his tone flat. "Don't know the details. A few salarians wound up dead," he answered.

Liara stored that parcel of information to investigate at a later date. "So, why tell me this?" she asked after a moment.

"Aria just wanted you to know that your human is in trouble. What you decide to do next is up to you," the batarian replied with a dark smile. He raised his hands when Liara glared at him. "Don't shoot the messenger, babe," he said.

With that, he quaffed the last of his beer, belched and sauntered off.

Liara turned back to her thoughts. They flowed around like a hurricane. She stared at her cup and thought then thought some more. Finally, she drank her wine.

It tasted like Shepard.


	17. Chapter 17

**Drifting**

_Author's note: Special thanks to kirjailija for pointing out characterization and storyline mistakes in this chapter. Edited 17 April 2010._

**Chapter 17 - MACHINATIONS**

The shuttle cab deposited its passengers onto the taxi waiting area. As soon as the last passenger had disembarked, it lurched into motion, clam-shell doors closing. The vehicle glided upwards and slid between the lanes of traffic.

A grizzled man in his late forties broke away from the chattering group of volus tourists. The black business attire he wore looked incongruous on him when taken with his broad large frame and scarred features. His eyes were obscured by stylish sunglasses as he took a moment to survey the concourse. It took a very keen eye to see the bulge under his jacket, along his left ribcage.

The man then loped northwards along the concourse. Around him, the bustle of people ebbed and flowed as citizens and visitors hustled about their business. He moved with a sure confidence and rapid stride as if he did not want to waste even a second.

He paused at a bridge leading to the Financial District of the Presidium and turned around. The man looked upwards and scanned the embassy's exterior until his gaze settled on a balcony overlooking the area. The man reached up and absently adjusted the way his shades sat on his nose. There was a small click and a flash of light flared across the sunglasses' gleaming surface for a fraction of a second.

The man smirked to himself before proceeding to cross the bridge. When he reached the Financial District, he made a beeline for the office of one eminent financial adviser. The two guards at the door scanned him before admitting him. They did not detect the presence of his sidearm.

Inside the spartan wide office sat a volus behind a large desk. The small creature seemed almost dwarfed by the furniture in his room. Indeed, his feet hung a foot above the floor when seated on the chair.

It was not unusual in the Citadel though for the furniture to be sized for larger alien races. Volus were merchants and traders so they had their offices accommodate their potential business partners and customers.

The volus at the desk was attired in a brown and cream environment suit. From its accoutrements, the suit was an expensive one. Behind the volus stood two heavily armed krogan mercenaries. They were so still that they might have been statues.

"Barla Von?"

Without seemingly surprised, the volus glanced up from his terminal. The whoosh and thump of his oxygen compressor filled the silence. "Depends who's asking, Earth-clan," the volus answered finally.

In response, the human removed his shades. A pair of mismatched eyes stared at him.

"Ah, Zaeed. I thought it might be you," Barla Von said calmly. The little alien did not seem perturbed to be in the presence of the infamous mercenary. "Nice clothes. You came up in the world?" he asked without a hint of sarcasm.

Instead of waiting for a reply, the volus gestured for his armed guards to leave the office. When the doors slid shut behind them, the volus indicated that the human take a seat. He did so - arrogantly.

"What brings you here, Zaeed?" Barla Von then asked. "Or haven't you heard that the Blue Suns have a bounty on your head?" he commented.

The human mercenary smiled. "A personal vendetta," he said.

Barla Von blinked. The Citadel's most sought after financial adviser seemed to ponder the implications of that statement. "I see," he said then in a voice still professional, cool and pleasant. "What do you need?"

Zaeed leaned back lazily in his chair. "What I need is information. Specifically, the docking security codes regarding a particular human vessel in lockdown by the Council," he explained.

The volus was silent a moment then he made a small wave with his hand, signaling Zaeed to continue. "Interesting. What is this vessel?" he asked. His voice gave no hint of his thoughts.

The mercenary paused. It was hard to read a volus and Barla Von was a master at being enigmatic. He could not tell if the volus had swallowed the bait. "The Normandy SR-2. Its captain is the human Spectre, Jane Shepard," Zaeed answered.

Barla Volus regarded the human then for a long moment. "I am afraid that We cannot help you," he said slowly.

Zaeed took a moment before answering. He was sure that he heard a capitalised 'We'.

"You know that I was hunting Vido? Shepard let him get away," Zaeed said then. "I want to make her pay but I can't get to her. Not now, locked up in C-Sec," he explained. When he saw that he had the volus hooked, he continued on. "I may not be able to get Shepard but I can get to her ship. It would fetch a fair price on the black market," he said.

The volus mused that over. He seemed to be weighing the pros and cons.

"How unfortunate for her," Barla Von replied. He seemed to think on his next words. "My employer too would seek retribution from an associate of Shepard's. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement," he offered then. "Scratch, as you Earth-clan are fond of saying, each other's backs."

Zaeed nodded. He had expected something like this. The price for freeing Shepard would not be paid in credits but blood. Jacob was a fool to think otherwise. "Who is this associate?" the mercenary asked.

"Liara T'Soni. An asari information broker on Illium. Take care of her and we would be willing to consider giving you the docking codes," Barla Von replied.

The human frowned. He had heard that name somewhere before. A half-remembered piece of conversation he had overhead between Garrus and Tali surfaced in his mind. The mercenary barely stopped his eyes from widening in realization.

"No deal, my short friend," Zaeed said. "Give me the codes and after the Normandy is in my possession, I will deal with this...Liara."

The volus stroke his breather tube, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger like a human would do with a long mustache.

"Oh my, it seems that we are at an impasse," Barla Von said then.

The mercenary raised an eyebrow. He took out his sidearm and laid it on the table, pointing its barrel towards the volus. His finger slid over the trigger. "I would disagree," he said mildly.

Barla Von regarded Zaeed. His optic shutters closed in a slow blink. "Kill me, Earth-clan, and you will gain nothing," the volus said in a low tone. "Except your own death," he added after a wheezing breath.

Zaeed had to give Barla Von some measure of respect. Unlike other members of his species, the volus was no coward. But then again, there were rumours in the underworld that Barla Von was the Shadow Broker.

"You're right, Barla Von," the mercenary replied. "See, here's the thing. You want that asari bitch dead and I am the only one who can kill her. You need me."

The volus considered that. He tilted his head in the curious way that most of his species did when they were thinking about something. "Oh?" he said then. "Why is that?" he asked in cold amusement.

Zaeed shrugged. "Unlike your previous assassins, I am the only one who is able to get close to the asari. Liara knows me as an associate of Shepard's. She would let her guard down if I told her that Shepard was in danger and needed her help."

Barla Von blinked again. Everything about him was calm and unhurried. "That has possibilities," the volus finally drawled out. "Very well then. We will give you the codes."

The mercenary had not expected the volus to come to a decision so quickly. He had expected Barla Von to at least confer with the Shadow Broker. Ice settled in his gut. Were those rumours really true?

"Just like that?" he growled.

"Just like that," the volus replied with a nod.

Barla Von summoned the information from his terminal and transferred the codes to Zaeed's omni-tool. The mercenary verified the data. It was genuine. As he was about to leave, the volus spoke again.

"Zaeed, there is one more piece of information I would like you to know," Barla Von said then in his quiet tone.

"Yeah?" the human grunted over his shoulder as he paused in the doorway.

The volus turned to look at the mercenary. "If you cross the Shadow Broker, know that it would be last thing you ever do."

Zaeed offered a cold smile in reply.

* * *

Jacob prowled the living room of the small apartment. The other two occupants in the room paid him no mind - tried not to at least. Instead, they were perusing datapads and conferring together in quiet voices.

When the man began another circuit of the room, one of the occupants raised her head and spared the ex-Marine an irritated look.

"Take a seat, Mister Taylor, before you wear a hole through the floor," Helena finally said aloud. The man's infernal pacing was beginning to fray her threadbare patience.

In response, the man whirled around and stabbed a finger at the woman. "You said that you were going to help Shepard - that you had a plan. How much longer must we sit here and wait?" Jacob growled.

The crafty crimelord tsked under her breath in reply. Youth these days all had hot blood. Well, except Shepard, of course. That woman had ice in her veins.

"All in good time, Mister Taylor. We are waiting for the last of the intel before we make a move. Your associate - " Helena began to say.

"He's no associate of mine," Jacob interrupted hotly, even slashing the air with his hand to emphasize his point.

"Your associate," the woman continued cooly over Jacob's voice, "will return shortly. Now do please take a seat and be quiet."

Despite Helena's cool tone, her eyes told the man that if he dared interrupt her again, he would have a smoking crater in his forehead.

Jacob glowered at them but did not deign to take a seat. He instead crossed the room to stare at the aquarium. The shoals of colourful fish reminded him of Shepard's quarters. Maybe before the plan goes down, he should pop over to the souvenir shop and buy her some fish for her quarters. He wondered if Rupert had replaced the glass for the fish tank. Then shook his head. Focus, Marine, he growled at himself.

The veteran crimelord sighed. Soldiers, she thought to herself. She handed the datapad to her salarian associate who took it and transferred the data to his own.

Helena crossed the room to stand beside Jacob. The man smoldered beside her in silence. She took a moment to carefully choose her words. There was no need to alienate potential allies.

"You have to understand, young man, that we are putting ourselves at great risk to help Shepard to escape," Helena said then.

If her philanthropic motives impressed the ex-Alliance soldier, he gave no sign of it. In fact the man snorted in disgust. Jacob folded his arms. His body posture was clear: don't talk to me.

The man spared the crimelord a furious glare. "If it was such a great risk, why are you and Aria helping Shepard?" The man's lips twisted into a sneer. "I can't believe it would be out of the goodness of your own hearts."

The crimelord considered what she should tell the man. "In the underworld, mister Taylor, secrets and debts have power. You don't want to owe anyone debts as you wouldn't want anyone to know your secrets. Those who have the most debts and secrets in their pockets often rule," she said after a moment. After a brief hesitation, she went on. "I am simply repaying a favour that Shepard did for me two years ago."

Jacob pondered on that. His brows lowered in a thoughtful frown. "What did the Commander do for you?" he asked after a moment.

"She didn't kill me," she replied with dry chuckle.

It was the woman's wry yet sincere tone that made the man come undone. He relaxed his posture and unfolded his arms.

The ex-Marine followed her to the couch and sat perched on the edge. He took out his sidearm and began to mechanically clean it just to give his hands something to do.

Helena retook her seat next to the salarian. She nodded to herself. It seemed that the man had calmed down. A restless soldier was like a loaded weapon in the hands of a child - you never knew when it would accidentally and catastrophically go off. She went back to discussing contingency plans with her associate.

The morning waned on as they waited. Morning had become afternoon when the doorbell finally chimed.

At the sound, Jacob came awake, alert and ready like a panther. He blinked the sleep from his eyes as he leveled his sidearm at the door.

The salarian sidled up to the door and checked the biometric scan on the panel at the side of the door. After a moment, he nodded to Helena who gestured for him to open the door. The salarian obeyed.

Zaeed swaggered in. Jacob almost did not recognise the man who was dressed in a business executive suit. The expensive suit fitted his broad form superbly that it seemed almost tailor-made for him. Jacob re-holstered his sidearm.

"Have you got the codes?" Helena asked from her seat on the couch.

In response, the mercenary activated his omni-tool and linked with Helena's. Once the data transfer had been completed, the man disengaged the link and took a seat on astuffed chair next to the couch. He shrugged out of his coat, tossed it on the floor and propped his booted feet on the coffee table.

"So, Helena, what's next?" Zaeed asked then lazily.

Helena was studying the docking codes which Zaeed had transferred to her. She nodded to herself and closed her omni-tool. She went to fix herself a drink at the minibar on the side of the room. "Next, Zaeed, is finalising Shepard's exit strategy," the crimelord replied.

Jacob had been eying the crimelord's omni-tool as if he would very much like to see what she had been reading. What she said made him speak up. "And what's that?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.

"We have someone working on it," Helena replied airily. She smiled then. It was a smile that probably struck fear into the hearts of her enemies. "An old associate of yours in fact," she added.


	18. Chapter 18

**Drifting**

_Author's Note: Sorry for the long hiatus. Reason: life. Anyway, I'm back and excited to be writing ME again._

**Chapter 18: GHOSTS**

Thane ducked into a small, dark alcove – barely wide enough to accommodate his frame – as the hunters came round the corner. He squatted and moved backwards until his back touched the wall, never taking his eyes from the group of humans that had been stalking him from the instant he stepped into the Zakera Wards.

Camouflaged by the darkness, the assassin took the opportunity to study his oncoming pursuers. It was the first time that he gotten a good look at them since he noticed that he was being tailed. The humans – three men and a woman – did not move like thugs and bore a cold look to their eyes. Thane was well acquainted with that look; it was one he saw in the mirror every day. They could be mercs. Since they were hunting him, they were probably Cerberus crew, he deduced.

The humans stopped dead in their tracks, just steps from where Thane hid, when they finally realised that they had lost their quarry. At this distance, Thane could see that they had concealed fully-assembled weapons under their clothes, most likely firearms from their shape.

Frowning in consternation, the woman spoke into a comlink on her wrist as her companions surveyed the jostling crowds of the ward. As she spoke, she lowered her gaze and was looking down at Thane. Thane stilled himself as he was taught, becoming one with the shadows. She did not see him.

"This is Dana. We lost the target, sir." After a moment, the woman nodded, disconnected her comlink. She gestured to her men. "Split up and look for him. But remember, the Illusive Man wants him alive."

_Well, that is good to know_, Thane thought to himself.

The group separated and began to scour the square. As soon as the woman had walked some distance away, Thane slipped out from his hiding place and used the shifting crowds to block himself from the Cerberus crew's line of sight. He moved through the bodies of people, heading for a service access corridor on the far side of the square. From there, he will be able to reach the skywalks and then he will hunt down the woman called Dana.

That had been the plan. Unfortunately, he was intercepted before he could reach his target.

One of the Cerberus crew spotted him and let out a shout. The human pointed at the drell and his compatriots began to converge. Thane spared his pursuers a quick look and sprinted for the stairway leading to the lower wards. He counted on the information that The Illusive Man wanted him alive; his people will not shoot in a public place.

Thane glanced over his shoulder as he ran. His hunters were gaining on him, pushing Citadel citizens out of their way, ploughing through the crowds. The drell leapt down the stairs to the landing, ran and jumped, using the wall as a springboard to launch himself down the next flight.

For a heartbeat, he sailed through the air, cold wind rushing by him and then his booted feet touched the metal flooring. People cursed him – a cacophony of alien obscenities – as they scattered. The acrobatic moves had given him a slight lead in the chase. He needed it.

His weakened lungs heaved against the constant crushing weight in his chest. It was as if a giant krogan fist was squeezing them flat. Thane's terminal illness did not allow him the luxury of prolonged intensive activity. He could still move at phenomenal speed but it cost him, draining away minutes of his own life. It was a symptom he had never told anyone.

Bursting out of the stairwell, Thane put those thoughts out of his mind. If he did survive this, he could dwell on his impending death later. Now, he had to lure his human pursuers away from the crowded wards so he could fight freely. He spotted the cab stand and made his way to it. As he ran, he took from his coat pocket a scrambler.

The console chirped its confirmation as he keyed in a request for a cab. It would take a few moments for a vacant cab to berth. Thane glanced over his shoulder and saw the Cerberus mercs emerge from the stairwell. They swiftly located him and charged.

However, they reached the cab stand too late.

A cab arrived and Thane slipped inside as the door wing lifted. The humans reached the cab platform as he slammed shut the door wing. He could hear their muffled curses through the door.

"Please key in your desired destination," the cab's VI intoned.

In answer, Thane slapped the scrambler onto the console. It uttered a series of beeps as the scrambler dissected the security protocols for the cab's controls. In seconds, the scrambler emitted an alert. Suddenly, the Haptic Adaptive Interface lit up.

The VI spoke again. "Manual override acknowledged. Please observe the Citadel's traffic regulations."

Not in this situation, Thane thought silently. Outside, the curses had faded into silence and then there came a soft metallic thuck on the hull. The drell knew that sound meant that they shot a tracer at the cab and that they must have summoned another cab. He only had moments to escape.

Thane activated the propulsion system. "Come. Follow me if you dare," he taunted his unseen pursuers as the cab pulled away from the berth and sped through the airspace.

At this hour, it was rush traffic. It required all his concentration not to crash into other vehicles as he confidently guided the cab through the gliding lanes.

Klaxons blared in the cockpit. The VI added its own warnings. "Danger. Collision imminent. Please decelerate to Citadel's speed regulations. Danger. Collision imminent. Please dece –."

Thane sighed loudly as he removed his thumb from the mute key. Unconsciously, his lips tightened as he swerved the cab suddenly out of the lane and headed for a deserted cargo bay. It was the perfect hunting ground.

* * *

Screams perforated the cargo bay, echoing between the towers of crates. Death flitted between the humans. They had come in greater numbers than the three that had pursued him through the wards. Still, one by one, the humans fell to twin knives that slashed and stabbed with merciless precision – until only one human remained.

"Wait," Dana pleaded as she backpedalled into a crate. She abandoned firing her handgun and dropped it. She held up her hands. "Wait! Don't kill me!"

Thane did not stop his attack instead he reversed the knife in his hand so that the butt of the hilt struck the woman across the face. The blow broke her nose, accompanied by a wet snap. Before the pain could register in her mind, Thane flowed around the human and grasped her in a hold. It was a hold that immobilized her. It was a hold that allowed the drell to grasp the woman's chin and top of her head with each hand.

"WAIT!" she shrieked, the word garbled from her injury. Her voice became frenzied. "Wait, I'll tell you everything."

The drell paused in the act of snapping her neck. He wondered absently how Miranda would have reacted to this Cerberus woman's spinelessness. The ex-Cerberus operative would probably have been disgusted and then shot the woman for her cowardice.

Dana hurriedly spoke to fill the silence. Perhaps she thought that if she supplied the information he wished to hear quickly, he would not be so quick to kill her.

"We know about the plan to rescue Shepard. We were ordered to capture you, to prevent you from getting the C-Sec security codes. We know that you hired that thief to get them for you."

Thane considered the information and its implications for a moment. He relaxed the muscles in his arms slightly.

"What would Cerberus do with Shepard after they capture her?" he asked then.

Dana began to shake with fear. The drell could feel her thundering pulse under the skin in her neck. "I don't know. I don't know. I swear I've told you everything I know," she babbled.

Thane tensed the muscles in his arms. "Very well then," he said after a moment.

Dana struggled futilely in his iron grasp. "Wait! Wait! I'd overheard something in the research lab. Something about a chip! A control chip!" she screamed.

The drell closed his eyes. Shepard was too valuable to Cerberus to kill so they will enslave her will instead. The thought chilled him to the bone. After a moment, he opened his eyes.

"I will pray for your soul," he said softly and twisted.

The snap sounded loudly in the quiet cargo. Thane caught the woman as she crumpled in his arms, laying her down gently on the floor. He closed her eyelids, sighed and looked up from his kneeling position. In the span of a few minutes, he had turned the cargo bay into a graveyard.

"And I will pray for mine as well."

* * *

Shadows danced along the metal grating of the skywalk. A figure emerged out from the shadows. Thane noted calmly the three smoldering corpses that lay strewn across a junction. He spun when he heard a footstep behind him, his handgun coming up reflexively.

The drell lowered it when he saw who it was. He should have known who it was when he heard that light step. It could have only belonged to the best thief in all the known galaxies.

"Good to see that you are still alive, Goto," Thane greeted the human woman in front of him.

From the shadows of her cowl, Thane could see the thief's mouth tightened in anger. It was reflected in her voice.

"No thanks to you, Krios," Kasumi Goto replied wintrily. She gestured sharply at the smoldering corpses. She added, "You're lucky I'm a hard woman to kill. I take it that these are from the same lot that attacked you in the wards?"

At Thane's surprised look, the human woman shrugged dismissively. "Word gets around when you know how to listen. Well?"

The drell nodded. "Yes, they are. They are from Cerberus."

Kasumi cursed softly. Even though Thane could not see her eyes, he knew that she was glaring at him. "As if I don't have enough bounties on my head," she growled softly.

Thane made a placating gesture. "I did warn you that Shepard was a high value target," he replied in his mild tone. "You still took the job."

The thief sighed and the anger seeped out of her, leaving her calm and collected again. "What can I say? You gave me an offer I couldn't refuse, Krios."

Thane smiled then. He extended his hand, palm upwards. "The security codes, transfer route and C-Sec security detail, please."

Kasumi hesitated. She regarded the drell for a long moment.

"Is she worth it?" the thief asked finally.

The drell wondered why Goto had asked that. He knew little about the enigmatic thief except that she could be trusted to get the job done. Thane thought about Shepard and her entwined fate with the Reapers.

"If you ever meet her then you would know the answer," he answered.

From the shadows of her cowl, Kasumi smiled. "I'll take that as a 'yes'." The thief transferred the data to Thane's omnitool. Once the transfer was completed, she gave a brusque nod that contrasted against the genuine warmth in her tone.

"Good luck with your mission, Krios," Kasumi said in farewell.

Without another word, she stepped backwards and turned as a blue electrical wave flowed upwards over her. One instant she was there, the next she had disappeared without a trace. Like a ghost.


	19. Chapter 19

**DRIFTING**

_Author's note: I downloaded and played Lair of the Shadow Broker several days ago. Actually, I've been playing it nonstop, over and over again. I've decided to realign my story to fit better with the canon established in the DLC._

**Chapter 19: CLASSIFIED**

Captain Bailey stepped through the holographic barriers that cordoned off the crime scene and surveyed the carnage. Revulsion radiated from his gut in waves, rose up in his throat. He swallowed the acidic bile, his mouth tightened a bit at the taste; outwardly he looked as composed as stone.

Under the cool light of the warehouse lighting, Bailey made a small circuit of the rumpled bodies, careful not to disturb the dried brown patches that painted the floor. His inspection ended at the lone corpse of a woman. She could have been sleeping if not for her broken neck. A uniform came up next to him and started scanning using his omni-tool.

"What do you think, Captain? Gang war?" the uniform asked. He was chewing on a toothpick as he worked. His movements were methodical, his expression blasé. To him, it was just another day on the job. Despite his young age, the man was as hard-boiled as they come.

Bailey sighed softly, feeling all the years of his age on shoulders as he did so. He shrugged uneasily under that weight. To onlookers, it looked as if he shrugged to the cop's question.

"It wasn't a gang war, son," Bailey answered softly.

A cold feeling settled in his gut, knotting his insides tightly. He walked over to another corpse and squatted beside it. The uniform followed suit. Bailey indicated the wounds on the body. "See here. The cuts are very precise. Surgical even."

Bailey lowered his hand, almost touching the gash on the corpse's throat. He paused then added. "It looks like the work of one man. The position of these dbs indicates that they were focused on a single target." He raised his eyes to the pockmarked crates. In his mind, he could trace the start of the conflict to its end where the woman laid.

"Damn," the uniform replied. He uttered a low whistle. "One man took out eleven guys armed to the teeth?"

Bailey nodded as he stood. "The man was a professional. Assassin. Merc. He did this. This execution," he said in a low growl.

"Could the dbs have been supremacists?" the uniform asked quietly. At least he had the sense to lower his voice when he did. The man keyed in a command in his omni tool and sent the data he collected back to C-Sec.

Bailey still gave a cautious look around before answering. The galaxies had gone to hell ever since the attack on the Citadel by Saren and the geth. Interspecies relationships teetered on the edge and there were a few unscrupulous, outspoken individuals and dangerous shadow organizations willing to push them over the brink.

He shook his head heavily as if dispelling that disquieting thought. "No, I don't think so," he answered as he turned around and headed away from the crime scene.

At Bailey's signal, the coroner who was hovering at the edge of the scene moved forward to collect the bodies. He stopped at the crime scene boundaries and addressed the tech there, who was busy running forensic scans.

"Did the security vids get anything?" he asked the woman, one of the few asari C-Sec officers.

She flicked her eyes upwards for a moment to meet his before returning to look at the datapad in her hand. She shook her head once before replying.

"Scrambled, sir," she said with perfunctory courtesy. She seemed more interested in her data than speaking to another living being. She thought for a moment before adding: "Techs are scrubbing them now but it could take several hours or more. I'll keep you posted."

"Thank you," Bailey said to the tech, who absently nodded. Her mind was already focused on her scans.

Bailey walked through the crime scene barriers and headed for his car. He could not get the face of the dead woman out of his mind. She had looked familiar somehow. The feeling of recognition gnawed at him all throughout the drive back to C-Sec.

* * *

Later that evening, the realization hit him like a bolt out of the blue. Bailey was poring over incident reports when he remembered where he had seen that woman before. He straightened up from his terminal, feeling his back cricked as he did so, and addressed the young officer seated at the security surveillance station. The room was empty except for the two of them.

"Julie."

The officer turned, brushing her sandy locks over her ear as she swiveled around. Her grey eyes were inquisitive and bright. "Yes, Captain?"

Bailey got up and came to stand by her chair. He placed a hand on the top of it. "Pull up the surveillance vids of that ruckus in the Zakera central market yesterday morning," he requested casually.

Julie received his order with a brief nod, swiveled back to her station and complied with lightning efficiency. Windows unfolded and winked out quickly as she searched through the security surveillance archives. Her eyes tightened in concentration. After several moments, she located the requested file and played it onscreen.

In the vid feed, a drell ran through the crowds followed by a group of humans. Bailey recognized the humans in the group as the dbs from the morning's crime scene. The captain had a good memory and he knew the drell as well. Thane Krios. Bailey had arrested his son. Thane Krios, one of the galaxies' best assassins. Thane Krios, an associate of Shepard's.

However, Bailey studied the replay without expression. No, he fought to keep any expression off his face. He did not realize that it made all emotion drain from his face, leaving his expression cold and empty. He turned those blank eyes on the security officer.

"Julie."

"Yes sir?"

Bailey forced his lips to curl into a friendly smile. It contrasted oddly with his empty eyes.

"Why don't you go grab yourself some coffee?" he asked in a quiet yet casual tone.

Julie's brow knotted in consternation for a moment. Her eyes strayed to the frozen vid of the replay before swiftly returning to meet Bailey's gaze. Her frown deepened. Bailey saw a fierce intelligence lurking in the shadows of her stare.

"Sir?" she queried.

Bailey swept an off-hand gesture to the door. "I think you need to take a break after staring at surveillance vids the whole morning. Give your eyes some rest," he replied congenially.

The officer seemed to balk at his order as her eyes studied his, as if she was trying to peer into his mind. Finally, she nodded, tapped the control panel on her visor to turn it off. It beeped once to confirm its shut down.

"Okay," she said quietly as she got up and left the room.

Bailey slid into the security officer's seat. He studied the vid, his thoughts were a whirlwind. Was this even related to Shepard? Was someone hunting the known associates of Commander Shepard's? Why did the Council arrest the Commander, a decorated hero of the Alliance and a former Spectre? Was Anderson's disappearance linked to Shepard as well?

No matter how he followed the winding course of his reflections, it all came back to Shepard. The present events on the Citadel were a maelstrom and at the eye of it was Shepard.

Bailey thought, steepling his fingers into a tent in front of him. Then he summoned up the keyboard and issued a command. The terminal beeped in response.

WARNING DELETING THESE FILES WILL RESULT IN PERMANENT REMOVAL FROM MAIN SERVER AND BACKUP SERVER.

CONFIRM

CANCEL

The captain stared at the glowing red letters on the screen, his finger poised over a command.

* * *

Juliana Finn walked out of the C-Sec office, deep in thought. Without breaking stride, she removed her visor and tapped it discretely. The device responded to her DNA, opening up a slit along its length and depositing a small memory chip onto her palm.

The blonde hefted the chip unconsciously as she opened her omni-tool and sent out a message. A chime confirmed the message had been received. She walked over to the taxi stand and gazed out on the softly illuminated buildings of the Citadel. Even though it was evening, the ward was still bustling. The city of the Citadel never slept.

Julie mused on the suspicious behavior of Captain Bailey as she took out a cigarette, lit it and walked towards an ad display. It activated as she approached. She grimaced slightly as the ad extolled to her the virtues of health insurance.

She was on her third cigarette when her contact showed up. The slate grey salarian found Julie leaning indolently against the frame of the ad display, taking intermittent deep drags. The human smiled slightly when she saw him and reached out to shake his hand. He could feel the shape of a chip pressed against his palm.

"Give this to our volus friend," she purred.

The salarian pocketed the chip without glancing at it. He folded his arms lazily as he leaned against the ad display. "What's on it?" he asked, not really expecting the operative to answer.

Julie inhaled a lungful of smoke before answering. "It has something to do with our troublesome commander," she replied.

The salarian grinned. "Oh, our friend will be most pleased," he said in cold delight.

* * *

Udina did not look up at him when Bailey entered the office. The man did not deign to even acknowledge his presence until the Councillor had finished reading a report on his screen. Only then did he lash his eyes in irritation at the captain.

As Udina had not asked him to sit, Bailey remained standing, tall and ramrod straight. He stood at attention with his arms clasped behind his back.

Finally, Udina spoke. "Yes? What is it now, Captain? I have important matters to attend to. Don't stand there idly and waste my time."

Bailey had rehearsed what he was going to say many times in his mind. Even the bark of Udina's tone now would not deter him. "It's about Shepard, sir," he began carefully.

"Shepard?" Udina repeated, interrupting him. The name rasped in the Councillor's throat.

Bailey could see that he had the man's full attention now. Udina considered him like he would do to some unwanted guest.

"What is this about Shepard, Captain? Did she say anything while imprisoned?"

Despite the man's nonchalant tone, Udina's eyes were piercing. Bailey had the sudden feeling that he was skating on thin ice. Still, he decided to tell the Councillor the truth.

"Shepard hasn't said a word since her imprisonment," he replied. "All she does is exercise, chew gum and stare at the ceiling." He paused and decided to go on with his line of questioning. He needed answers, he needed them now. "I don't believe that Shepard's a traitor. Why isn't the Alliance fighting for her release?"

Udina sighed. His brow smoothed out and his expression shifted to a conciliatory one.

"I know it is difficult to believe that a hero like Shepard could become a traitor. But she did. There is undeniable proof that she worked with Cerberus. She herself admitted to working with that terrorist organization," the Councillor answered. "It is best to leave matters in the Council hands. In fact, I'll be attending a meeting shortly where we will discuss what to do with Shepard. Was there anything else?"

Bailey could see that the man was not going to budge. Arguing about Shepard's fate would not do any good. He had another question.

"What about the Reapers, Councillor?"

Udina seemed to choke for a second then composed himself. However, Bailey could see that his question set the man on edge.

"What did you just say, Captain?" Udina asked softly. His eyes made it clear that the Captain was treading on dangerous ground. Perhaps he thought that if he stared at Bailey long enough, the man would drop his line of questioning.

Captain Bailey drew himself up to his full height and stood his ground. "I want to know about the Reapers that Shepard mentioned in the meeting," he asserted firmly.

He watched closely as Udina forced his facial muscles into a smile. It was the same false smile that Bailey himself used on Julie in the C-Sec office.

"Come now, Captain! Surely you don't believe in those delusions that Saren and the geth concocted?" the Councillor answered with a bark of laughter.

It rang hollowly in Bailey's ears. When Bailey did not respond, Udina's jovial expression sluiced off his face, leaving a stern mask behind. "I trust that you have the common sense, Captain, not to go about spreading these fabricated tales. You can see the harm it has done with Shepard. Let's just keep this information classified, shall we?"

Bailey kept his face smooth and he managed a nod. He had the suspicion that Udina was lying to him. Looking him straight in the eye and lying through his teeth.

"Of course, Councillor. As you command," Bailey replied in an emotionless voice and saluted.

* * *

The days had blended together into a blur of routine. Lying stretched out flat on her back on the bunk, Shepard had her eyes closed, head pillowed by her arms. Even with her eyes closed, she was aware when someone approached her cell. The person was moving stealthily, moving with quiet footsteps.

There was a sharp intake of breath then the person spoke.

"Tell me about the Reapers, Shepard."

Shepard's eyes slowly opened. She blinked a few times to adjust her vision to dim the lighting of the C-Sec's 'night cycle' before she sat up on the bunk. The commander had tried meditating like Samara often did on the Observation Deck. She had thought she had almost achieved equilibrium until Bailey had spoke.

In fact, Bailey's words had set her soul on fire. The very mention of Reapers was like klaxons sounding in her mind. She regarded the man then raised her gaze to the security cameras before returning to look back at him.

Bailey understood her unspoken question. "Don't worry. They're off. I wanted to keep our conversation off the record."

Shepard nodded. It confirmed her suspicion that Bailey was not here on Council or Alliance business. "What do you want to know?" she asked her late-night visitor cautiously.

The man paused. His eyes searched as he seemed to carefully consider his reply. When he raised his gaze to meet hers, his eyes were solemn and steady.

"Everything," Bailey answered.

* * *

The apartment was dark and quiet. Shadows danced along the walls and scurried across the floor. Alone in the kitchen area, Bailey sat at the dining table, cleaning his gun fastidiously. Finally, he laid down the cloth and his pistol. After a moment, he lowered his head into his hands.

His whispered words were loud in the silence.

"My cup runneth over."

* * *

A chime signaled the end of processing. The human woman extracted the information from the file and displayed it on her screen. She then painted on a bright, practiced smile. It looked odd on her wearied features.

"Welcome back to the Citadel, Dr T'soni," the officer greeted warmly. She handed over a datapad with a visitor's permit. "Is the purpose of your visit business or pleasure?"

Liara nodded her thanks as she accepted the datapad and managed a small pleasant smile. She knew that her smile looked a bit strained and lacked warmth. Damn it. She had forgotten how a young and eager archaeologist was supposed to act. She placed the datapad in her suitcase, picked it up before she answered the officer.

"Business."


	20. Chapter 20

Drifting

Author's note: As the ME canon does not name all three Council members yet, I'm guessing which one is Valern and has made up a Roman inspired name for the turian Councillor: Paxios. Half of this fic was written months ago.

CHAPTER 20: DETENT

It was night in the Presidium. With the government offices closed, the administration district was quiet, almost tranquil.

Up in the Council chambers in the Citadel Tower, Councillor Tevos stood serenely before a glass wall, looking down on the city, her hands folded in front of her. Who knows what nefarious events were occurring right now under the cover of darkness?

"She was right about Saren," Tevos repeated for the third time that evening, focusing her mind on the matter at hand.

Behind her, she heard Valern snort. The salarian had been growing more and more short-tempered lately. She suspected that he was feeling his advanced age. He had recently turned 43 after all. "But she is still wrong about these Reapers. STG and our own agents have not heard even a whisper of these so-called Reapers."

Even though she could not see him, Tevos knew that Paxios was nodding in agreement to the salarian's statement. The turian was adamant in his assertions that Commander Shepard was delusional and a traitor to the Council. If he had his way, Shepard would have already been eliminated quickly and quietly by a Spectre.

Although Tevos concurred that the human Spectre had been misled by Saren, she could not condone Shepard's execution. Even with the evidence of the human's affiliation with the terrorist organisation Cerberus. Tevos still felt grateful that the woman had – coldly and rationally – sacrificed the lives of her own people to save the Council from certain annihilation.

It was a move that contradicted against the asari's knowledge and perceptions about humanity. Humans were a young space faring race and like all young space faring races were aggressive in their expansion into new frontiers – and chartered territories.

She had sat on the Council with Paxios and the former salarian Councillor when humanity had charged onto the intergalactic stage, literally with guns blazing. The Council had to step in and brokered a peace before full-scale war occurred.

However, the stain of the First Contact War had damaged humanity's reputation almost beyond repair. It was only through the actions of honourable humans such as Anita Goyle and David Anderson that humanity was allowed to gain its foothold.

Now, Anderson was missing and his protégé Shepard had turned into a traitor. If Anderson was here, he would be fighting for Shepard's freedom. With that bleak thought, Tevos joined her fellow Councillors at the round meeting table.

"I know that, Valern," she said as she resumed her seat. "The question remains, what are we to do with Shepard?"

Paxios brought his fist down onto the table. "I do not see why we are wasting time talking about this. It has been days of deliberation! Put her on trial and imprison her. As we speak, a new Purgatory is under construction." His mandibles flared in agitation.

Tevos stared at the turian in surprise before she quickly recovered herself. She had thought that he would have pushed for Shepard's execution. He must be frustrated with their deliberations and bring the matter to some conclusion. Or perhaps he was considering the public outcry if an ex-hero of the Alliance were to be executed. Turians could be crafty that way.

The salarian councillor on the other side of her shook his head. He blinked in that characteristic way salarians had when they were deep in thought. Valern pondered for a moment, tapping a finger thoughtfully on his chin. "Shepard's trial can wait. For now."

Valern rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. "The Normandy is my main concern. Just think of the stolen technology Cerberus used to build the ship. I'd heard that it's even more advanced than the last one." A look of hunger burned in the salarian's eyes.

In response, Paxios smirked. He suspected that the salarian government was itching to put his spindly fingers on the secret technology of the Normandy. The turian uttered a snarling squall. "I say we storm the Normandy and crack it open like a nut," he growled.

That earned him a sharp glance from Tevos. She was the longest serving Councillor in the room and was nearing her matriarch years in several centuries. "The Normandy is still revered as the ship that led the assault against the geth attack on the Citadel," she counseled.

"Bah! That was the old Normandy! Are you saying then that we sit on our asses and do nothing?"

The look that Tevos gave Paxios would have given a rampaging krogan pause. "What I am saying, Councillor, is that I want to exhaust all avenues before resorting to this last recourse," the asari said firmly.

Valern, who had been listening carefully to the exchange, cleared his throat loudly, interrupting Paxios before he could retort. "Commander Shepard is a headstrong individual. She's a disciplined tactician - cold and calculative. But she is...as the humans say, still human. Perhaps, it is time to send in someone that she trusts."

"Very well," Tevos concurred with a gracious nod. "Maybe this time, she will listen to reason. Perhaps she will be able to get the Normandy to surrender peacefully."

Paxios snorted. His mandibles flared as he smiled. He folded his arms and reclined in his chair. There was a malevolent gleam in his eyes. "The question now is who."

The terminal beeped to alert that the Normandy was dropping out of FTL. Shepard ignored it and continued to read the sitreps. The text blurred and ran, bleeding orange streams across her vision. Damn it.

She rubbed her eyes wearily and leaned her forehead against her palm. Her fingers clenched, grasping a handful of hair. Ow. Okay, pain did not ignite any stunning revelations. She let go of her mane and instead punched the desk, distorting the haptic interface. Electrical pulses vibrated around her fist as her knuckles screamed silently.

Shepard ignored her injured appendage. The commander heaved a sigh in frustration as she leaned back into her chair and stared at the ceiling. Her mind was trying to tell her something. Ships had gone missing. Shepard called up the galaxy map, overlaid it with markers of the missing ships. She studied it, frowning in thought. No patterns. Damn it. There was no reason why the geth would be raiding ships in this sector of space.

The Normandy had been patrolling the sector for four days, scouring for any signs of geth. But there had been not even a whiff of those sapient toasters. As the days mounted on, the crew had been growing more and more restless. It had been hard to keep morale up. Shepard tried her best to keep a calm and collected demeanor in front of the crew but she could do little to dispel the electrifying tension in the air. The commander wondered what Anderson would have done in her position. That man had always made command look so infernally easy.

Liara had commented on the crew's apprehension in the privacy of their cabin. The asari had moved in after the Battle of Citadel. Shepard explained to her that it was not the geth that frightened them but what the mechanical species represented.

Hundreds of years of boogeyman tales existed in Earth's history about rogue AIs, depicted in ancient vids and literature. Once humanity had ventured beyond their system, they had encountered their worst nightmares. Hostile aliens. War. A rogue AI race.

Of course, Liara had found the whole discussion to be utterly fascinating. Sometimes, Shepard caught the asari looking at her as if she was some exotic specimen that Liara wanted to dissect. She had teased the alien about it just to see Liara squirm.

To be honest, Shepard had never felt so strongly about anyone in her life. She had not realized that before she had been drowning until Liara came and was her air. The feeling unnerved her. She would rather face a squad of marauding krogans bare-handed than surrender herself completely to that feeling.

Shepard's gaze returned to the galaxy mark and scowled. It just made no damn sense! There was no pattern to the disappearances. It was almost as if the geth was taunting her. The commander belatedly realized that her thoughts were caught in an infinite loop. She needed to take a break. What she needed was... some coffee.

With her mind set, the commander made a beeline for the galley to find it crowded with crew chowing down on breakfast. Eyes fixed on the coffee dispenser, she waved down any crew member that wanted to rise and salute. Only when she had a steaming mug of coffee in her hands did Shepard lean back against the counter and relaxed.

Suddenly, the Normandy listed. Shepard stumbled into a bulkhead, dropped her coffee and caught a crewman off balance. In the distance, thunder boomed. More thunder erupted as the ship shook and bucked. Klaxons blared as the ship shifted into red alert and power was rerouted to emergency systems. Red light flooded the Normandy.

The bulkhead next to her exploded outwards, engulfing the crewman she held in fire. He screamed as he fell writhing to the deck. In a few heartbeats, he stopped moving. Shepard did not spare him another glance. She activated the inter-ship radio communications in her earpiece as she ran to her private locker.

"Joker, report!"

More fires broke out, ravenous flames blooming across the bulkheads and ceiling. In seconds, The Normandy had become a scene from hell. The ship began to dip, rise and swerve as the helmsman executed swift evasive maneuvers. Somewhere along the deck, more explosions rocked the ship.

"We're under attack, Commander!" Joker yelled. He quickly recovered himself and continued more calmly. "Unknown vessel. Superior firepower. I can't shake her."

Shepard swore silently as she suited up. "Keep us alive, Joker, until the crew can evacuate." She grabbed her helmet and ran towards the sleeping pod department.

"That's the plan, Commander!" the helmsman retorted. "Shepard…hurry!"

The Normandy shuddered. Metal groaned and screamed. Everywhere, people were dying. Shepard accessed the emergency control panel in the sleeping pod area. She called up the ship's schematics and fought fear as red bled across the ship. As she watched more hull breaches and damage lit the Normandy up. It was only through Joker's skill that they were still alive. Shepard hurriedly primed the distress beacon. She straightened from the console, slipping on her helmet. It hissed as it pressurized.

"Shepard!"

Shepard uttered a prayer of thanks under her breath. A knot that she didn't know in her heart loosened. She had been afraid that Liara had been hurt – or worse – in the attack.

"Distress beacon is ready for launch," she announced, turning to her lover.

The asari strapped on her helmet. "Would the Alliance get here in time?" Liara asked, her voice electronized by the helmet's speaker.

Before Shepard could answer, another explosion rocked the deck, causing the asari to stumble into Shepard. The Commander steadied her reflexively. She briefly glimpsed the fear in her lover's wide eyes. A sensation of premonition caused Shepard to glance over her shoulder. The schematics of the Normandy flickered and dissolved into static noise. Crap, systems had gone off line. She could not launch the damn distress beacon yet.

"The Alliance won't abandon us. We just need to hold on," she assured the asari, grabbing a fire extinguisher and tossing it towards the asari. They had to put the fires out before the flames fried crucial circuitry.

Shepard quickly pulled away an overhanging sparking cable and rerouted power. She turned her attention to the power conduit. "Get everyone onto the escape shuttle."

Behind her, she could hear the hiss of the extinguisher as Liara hosed the small fires breaking out. The asari spoke as she worked.

"Joker's still in the cockpit. He won't evacuate." Her lover's voice firmed with determination. "I'm not leaving either."

Shepard had only partly registered what Liara had said. Her mind was focused on the getting the distress beacon operation or else they were fubar. There, that should do it. Shepard checked over her shoulder. The screen flickered to life. Good. The systems had come back on. Only then did her mind shifted to what Liara had said. The commander cursed vehemently about the asari's stubbornness. This was not the time to argue!

"I need you to get the crew onto the evac shuttle," she said, pulling the fire extinguisher from Liara's hands. She turned towards the control panel. "I'll take care of Joker." A section of the control panel sizzled, bursting into flames.

Another explosion rocked the Normandy. The deck heaved. Shepard lost her footing, slammed into a sleeping pod. She grunted in the suit, her ribs blazed in agony.

"Shepard!" Liara began to protest.

The commander ignored the asari as she tossed the fire extinguisher aside. Useless piece of crap. As she watched, more fires blossomed and raged out of control. Water hissed and steam rose, mingled in the thick smoke as sprinklers fought desperately to contain the fire.

Every moment they spent arguing could be a second closer to their deaths. Shepard reached the control panel and began to reprogram the distress beacon. She realized that Liara was still standing behind her. "Liara, go!" Shepard commanded, her voice steel. She turned to look at her lover. Her tone softened slightly. "Now."

The asari hesitated.

"Aye aye," Liara acknowledged softly.

However, Shepard had turned back to the control panel. In moments, the distress beacon activated. With a snarl, the commander slammed her palm down on the launch icon. The distress beacon was away. Now, all she had to do was take care of Joker.

Shepard woke with a start, rocketing up from the bunk into a sitting position. She shivered in the cold air, fought to breathe as phantom fingers constricted around her throat. Her tongue burned with the memory of bubbling saliva.

The memories of her dreams splintered and shattered; leaving behind only an ominous feeling of dread. Shit, Shepard thought to herself, clutching her aching head. Dreams mingled with memories always made the darkest nightmares. Damn it. Will she ever get past the horror of her death?

Eventually, her thundering heart slowed and she could draw breath easily. First shallow ones that gradually grew deeper and deeper. Currents from the air vents above breathed against her sweaty skin, causing it to prickle and pebble. The headache eased and thought returned.

Only when her head had cleared did Shepard realize that someone was standing outside her cell. 'Bad situational awareness, Shepard', she thought to herself. 'Are you trying to get yourself killed...again?' She wondered uneasily how long the person had been standing there.

Making no overt movements, Shepard glanced surreptitiously at the figure in front of her cell. Darkness cloaked the silhouette but judging from its height and broadness, the commander figured it was a human man.

The man waved a hand at the control panel next to the cell, opening the intercom so that they could speak freely through the barrier.

"Shepard."

The commander's eyes narrowed. She knew that voice. "Kaidan" she said as she slipped off the bunk.

Shepard made her way slowly to stand in front of him, scrutinizing him closely with every step. She moved warily. The face that had been so familiar to her could have belonged to a stranger.

They looked at each other in silence. Kaidan watch the fire in her eyes cool.

"Those eyes," she said softly. "Those are the same eyes that I saw on Horizon."

Kaidan was unsure how to respond to that. But he knew that he would not apologise. "We never did have a chance to talk on Horizon." A fleeting thought crossed his mind. What had she been dreaming about that made her thrashed about so?

Shepard turned around as if she did not want to face the memory - or face him. She leaned against the frame of the barrier's encasement. The commander still did not look at him, her gaze studied the tops of her boots.

She seemed lost in thought. "You were an ass." Her tone was hushed.

"So were you," Kaidan replied in the same quiet yet emotionless tone.

Her shoulders shook once. A soft intake of breath. She raised her head to look at the ceiling. He could imagine the small smirk on her lips. "Touche," she murmured.

Shepard slid down against the barrier and stretched out her legs in front of her.

Kaidan knew how she felt. It was easier to talk if he did not have to look at her. After a moment of thought, he settled himself against the barrier, with his back to hers.

He spoke to the air. "You aren't the same person I followed two years ago."

There was no accusation. Just a fact calmly stated. In a way, he felt dead, numbed. Like the feeling of betrayal had burnt out. Not even the embers remained.

A soft rustle. Did she move?

"You have changed as well."

There was accusation in her tone. The hurt from his betrayal. They had saved each other's life so many times when they fought Saren. It must have been like the ground crumbling beneath her feet to come back from the dead and find her friends desert her. No, that was not true. Garrus had been there on Horizon with her.

Why had she sought out the turian first before the Alliance? Before him?

"People change."

Kaidan hated the anger that exploded from within him.

There was no bridge between them anymore. Their priorities were different. Their paths had diverged for too long.

When the Alliance decried the Reapers, he could not even bring himself to fight for Shepard's mission. The Reapers had been her fight. Her war. And then she had jumped sides to Cerberus. Jeff, the fool, had joined her.

"Well, for me, being dead was a life-changing experience. What changed you, Kaidan?" She paused then. "Or should I ask, who changed you?"

He had buried the hurt. He had moved on. He had found that life existed outside Shepard and her mission. He had found love. Or, at least some semblance of love. What right did she have to drag him back into all of this? Kaidan uncurled the fists that rested on his knees.

"Hey, I am not the enemy here."

He felt her absorbed that. He could imagine her lips twist in scorn. She had never asked to be made a hero. She had just been a soldier trying to do her job and she lost everything.

As if Kaidan read her mind, he addressed the blue elephant in the room with them. He spoke calmly as if his words were of no consequence.

"I have to ask. You chose Liara. Why?"

He felt her start in surprise. In his mind, he could picture her pulling her knees tighter against her chest. A wall against the outside world. Her words were muffled. She must have lowered her head onto her arms.

"I'd told you."

She had been apologetic, even contrite. She spoke but he had not heard a word she had said. Why? Because it was all lies. Or shallow truths at the very least.

His voice was like a razor. "No, you didn't."

Kaidan thought she had moved again. Did she flinched? Shepard sighed.

Her next words were clear and audible. She must have raised her head. Knowing Shepard, she had laid her cheek on her forearms. "Something about her drew me. I thought that I could protect her." She paused then added, "I wanted to protect her."

Her words were like knives, slicing deeper with each sentence. "That was how I felt about you," he said quietly then.

"I know," she said softly.

Kaidan sensed Shepard half turn, falter then resume facing her position away from him. "I was attracted to you too, Kaidan," she confessed.

He smirked mirthlessly.

"Until Liara came."

Shepard drew a shaky breath. "Yeah," she confirmed.

It still ripped out his heart when he heard that. "Ass," he muttered.

Kaidan counted his heartbeats. "About Ashley..." he began.

"Sorry, Kaidan," Shepard interrupted, her cold voice freezing him. "But I'm the only one allowed to feel guilty about Ashley's death. A privilege of command."

Even without looking at her, Kaidan knew how Shepard's eyes looked then. She would never cry. He had never seen her cry but he heard the tears in her soul. "Ashley died a hero. Let's honour her sacrifice by not tarnishing her memory with you feeling sorry for yourself because I prioritized your mission over hers."

In that moment, Kaidan had a glimmer of understanding about how alone Shepard must have felt. The pain that she had to shoulder by herself. He thought back to Horizon and comprehended the shielded look he had seen in Shepard's eyes then. It had been unfathomable despair.

Kaidan closed his eyes. I did that to her, he thought. I was the one who deserted her, not she me. He felt something break inside him.

"Cerberus has Anderson."

Shepard opened her eyes and raised her head, Kaidan's words stunning her although she did not remain surprised for long. "Why Anderson?"

Kaidan stood and sensed Shepard doing the same. He turned to look levelly into her violet-blue eyes. "He's bait," he said quietly.

He watched her eyes narrow in thought. Almost, he could see the wheels spinning, calculating the scenarios. "Wonderful. A trap."

"The Shepard that I knew two years ago would not let that stop her."

A low, soft puff of breath answered him. "The Shepard you knew two years ago also had not died yet."

Against his will, he smiled. "Funny. I thought that I was looking at her right now."

She was quiet. "Smart ass," was all that Shepard could say. Her lips quirked and she lowered her head slightly. He could hear the smile in her voice and underneath, a worn tension.

There was nothing more to say. Kaidan saw a darkness lurk in her eyes. "I'll dig into Anderson's disappearance. Will let you know if I find anything. Stay safe, Jane."

She nodded. "You too, Kaidan."

"Kaidan."

He stopped and half-turned, waiting. "Kaidan, what did you come here for? Tell me the real reason. It wasn't to bury the hatchet."

The man quirked an eyebrow. "The Council sent me to ask you to command the Normandy to surrender peacefully," he said after a moment.

Shepard stared at him in astonishment that slowly turned to cold fury. Her eyes became flaming ice. "You can tell the Council to go to hell."

Kaidan smiled a dark smile, a light went out in his eyes. "Yeah. I'd figured you were going to say that," he said with a knowing smirk.

He nodded a goodbye and left the cell block. When the last of his footsteps had faded away, Shepard leaned her head against the barrier. She reacquainted herself with the concept of breathing.

"Well, that was a complete waste of time," Paxios growled, mandibles flaring in annoyance. The words 'I told you so' hung unsaid in the air. He began to pace in agitation.

Despite the circumstances, Valern glanced askance at his compatriot in wry amusement. The turian was an excellent tactician but he had a temper like a krogan. It took very little to set the turian off.

Tevos, on the other hand, was far from amused. She folded her hands calmly in front of her as she spoke. "I still think it would be unwise to attack the Normandy. I want to avoid any unnecessary casualties."

The turian made a slashing motion with his hand, claws scything through the air as he whirled on the asari. Even though he towered above her, it was the asari who seemed to dominate through sheer will.

"It's unavoidable, Tevos. Sacrifices have to be made for the greater good," Paxios said, his tone reasonable. He gestured passionately as he spoke.

The asari shook her head in answer. "Not this time," she said firmly. "Not for this."

Paxios squalled. He eyed the asari as he would a stubborn child. The two councillors began to exchange words, each arguing their case fervently.

Valern listened with half an ear to the discussion. The two were in a deadlock. He smiled to himself as he sidled over to the last member of the Council.

"Councillor Udina, you have been quiet. What say you? This is a human matter as well," the salarian asked the human. His question cut through the heated debate between Tevos and Paxios.

As Valern had surmised, the two councillors fell silent and turned to hear what the human had to say.

The human perpetually wore a dour scowl. It was his customary expression. Udina drew himself up straight and tall when he saw that he had their complete attention.

"Your caution is admirable, Councillor Tevos, but the media can always be manipulated in our favour," Udina put in. "I say we storm the Normandy and claim it for the Council."

Tevos had always disliked Udina. There was something about the man that unsettled her. He had an unrivalled greed for power unlike anyone she had ever met in her lifetime. The man almost reeked of it. His proposed plan only confirmed her suspicions of the human.

Valern caught Tevos furtively eyeing him. He read the masked apprehension on her face. "There are human lives on that ship. A few alien but mostly human. What fallout could we expect from the Alliance if we do take action against the Normandy?"

Before Udina could answer the salarian, Tevos' com link chimed. The asari held up a hand to bide the man to wait. A frown crossed her features before she could smooth it out. Her aide would not interrupt a Council meeting unless it was a matter of utmost importance.

"What is it, Danara?" Tevos asked her aide over the com.

She could hear the agitation in her aide's normally controlled and collected demeanour. The councillor wondered what could have set the young woman on edge. "There is an incoming transmission from Admiral Hackett of the Fifth Fleet, Councillor."

Tevos exchanged puzzled glances with Valern while Paxios crossed his arms expectantly. The turian had a battle look in his eyes. Udina, on the other hand, seemed like he was having an apoplexy. So, even the former human ambassador had no inkling to why the renowned Admiral was calling. This did not bode well, Tevos thought.

"Put him through, please." When the com link chimed that it had switched to another channel, she addressed the admiral. "Admiral Hackett. Greetings. This is Councillor Tevos. Is there something we can do for you?"

The man had polished reticence to an art. He wasted no time with pleasantries. "Councillor, we request that you remand Commander Shepard into Alliance custody," Admiral Hackett ordered. His gravelly voice was polite if cool. "Now."

Tevos frowned. Her sources had informed the councillor that the Admiral favoured Shepard and had protected the Commander from the Alliance, much to his detriment. What caused him to change? she wondered silently.

Her compatriots exchanged hooded looks. They did not like where this discussion was heading. Not one bit.

Aloud, she replied: "You have no authority to ask us for that, Admiral. As a former Spectre, Shepard is under our jurisdiction. And she will stand trial for her crimes."

Admiral Hackett sighed. She could imagine the man shifting in his command chair, a glower darkening his craggy face. "You are mistaken, Councillor," the admiral returned. "That was not a request."

Tevos put all the contempt she felt about the human's audacity into one word. "Oh?"

A hiss of breath and then Admiral Hackett spoke, still calm. "I would hate to move the Alliance fleet away from the Citadel armada. Especially during these tumultuous times."

Valern stepped forward, forgetting for a moment that the Admiral can't see him. His mind whirled with the possibilities. The Council has ruled with an iron fist for centuries. Who knows which species might take its revenge when the fleet pulled out? Geth. Batarian. The suspect races were infinite.

"You wouldn't dare," the salarian managed to grate out. "You would start a war over one woman?"

Even though Tevos could not see the human's face, she knew that he wore a grim smile. "Read our history, Councillor. It has happened before." He paused then added, "Trust me, you don't want to see the worst we can do. It would make the First Contact War look like a skirmish."

Paxios howled. He threw back his head and howled in rage. When it had ended, he drew a deep breath. "You humans are all mad," Paxios began but Tevos cut him off with a gesture.

The asari glanced at Udina but the wretched man was of no help. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He finally found the words to speak.

"This is outrageous! Admiral Hackett, you are overstepping your authority," the human managed, his eyes bulging with outrage. "I suggest, Admiral, that you consider carefully the position you are in. The Alliance president would not take too kindly to anyone disrupting humanity's agenda for galactic expansion."

A dry laugh answered him. It sounded how a stone would laugh. "You're welcome to waste the prime minister's time with this, Councillor Udina." An unspoken threat lurked beneath those words.

Tevos watched Udina splutter and fall silent. Useless fool. She turned her attention to the Admiral.

"Is this how humanity repays the Council for giving your race a seat in power? Threaten us?" she said quietly.

The man was quiet for a moment. "And is this how you repay the woman who saved your lives and those of the galaxy from Saren?" he asked, his voice mild but contemptuous.

Paxios was beginning to rile up again at the admiral's words. Valern laid a hand on the turian's arm, wordlessly pleading with him to remain silent. The turian snarled and tore his arm out of the salarian's grasp. He glowered at Valern but kept his counsel. The turian turned his attention back to Tevos, wondering how the asari would deal with it.

Tevos herself wondered that same question. The humans had a saying, 'discretion is the better part of valour'. Perhaps she could persuade the Admiral to see reason. 'Yes, try that route, it went very well with Shepard this evening' a voice whispered sarcastically in her mind. She ignored the voice.

"Admiral, you have to understand our precarious situation. If word of Shepard's delusions got out, it would cause panic and catastrophic chaos."

She could feel the Admiral smile. He sensed his advantage and pressed forward. "Do not worry about word getting out about the Reapers, Councillor. We know just how to handle Commander Shepard," Admiral Hackett assured her.

The asari did not like the implications of the man's tone and statement. A fury had welled up in her chest, making it hard to breathe. She drew a ragged breath, closing her eyes for a moment then opening them again. One woman was not worth starting a war over.

"All right," she said then. She drew another razored breath. Her resolution firmed. "All right. We will relinquish Commander Jane Shepard into Alliance custody." She added under her breath: 'Goddess have mercy on us if it's the wrong decision we make'.

"Good," the admiral replied simply as if he had been expecting her answer.

Tevos ignored Valern's furtive gestures to stop talking. "How soon can you take her?" she asked softly.

"Preparations have already been made. We have a frigate standing by in dock, ready for transportation of the prisoner."

Paxios had held his tongue during the exchange. The gall of that man. The curse changed in his mind when he repeated it. The gall of that human. That accursed species! The turian, with much effort, managed to contain his fury.

Tevos nodded in acknowledgement. "Understood. We will release her to you within the hour." A part of her felt relieved that the Council did not have to deal with Shepard any longer.

With that, the admiral signed off cordially. Tevos turned to her compatriots, sharing guarded looks. She glanced askance at the human representative. The man's bluster had failed to sway Admiral Hacket and had led to this.

"Udina... please leave us." Her voice was calm. She was surprised at how tranquil she felt.

The man argued, claiming that he could make a case against Admiral Hackett for acting without Alliance sanction. Tevos ignored him. "Now. If you would," she said firmly. Udina had no choice but to leave.

Paxios watched the man leave. If he had disdained humanity before, he clearly hated the species now. Once the doors had whisked shut, the turian turned to the asari. "What shall we do, Tevos?"

Tevos walked over to a terminal. "Let the Alliance have Shepard," she said as she begun to send coded messages. "We will take the Normandy and its crew." Once done, the asari turned back to the salarian and turian. "Order all Special Tactics and Reconnaissance agents within the Citadel to mobilize and attack the Normandy within the hour."


End file.
